


Empty House

by OpensUp4Nobody



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Enjolras gets no sleep poor baby, I just wanted to terrify E and write banter, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform, You'll have to read and find out, because R is absurd and I love him, bed sharing, no idea how scary it actually is but I tried, or is it???, talk of murder and ghostly things, there is a lot of nonsense talk in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-06-17 15:53:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15464883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpensUp4Nobody/pseuds/OpensUp4Nobody
Summary: Enjolras and Grantaire spend a few days trapped together in Éponine's allegedly haunted childhood home. Not that haunted houses are a thing that can exist. They may not agree on much, but obviously ghosts aren't real. Sure, sometimes weird and terrifying things happen without any apparent logical reason, but clearly ghosts aren't real.





	1. Chapter 1

"Wakey wakey, Apollo," Grantaire cooed teasingly. He was driving, one hand firmly planted on the wheel and jostling the sleeping blond in the passenger seat beside him. "We have nearly arrived." 

Enjolras drew in a sleepy breath and rubbed a hand over his face, his first waking emotion was confusion. Waking up to Grantaire's mocking voice was not something that usually happened unless he had passed out somewhere unusual. For example, he had once fallen asleep while serving food for a local charity event. It was at the end of the evening, in his defense, and he'd actually been eating his own dinner when he fell asleep, but he happened to rest his face in his mashed potatoes and had awoken to Grantaire trying to unsuccessfully stifle his laughter and coax him awake as the event leader was trying to get his attention. The point was that it was an annoying way to wake up and set him immediately on edge. 

"Where are we?" he mumbled, for a moment he could not for the life of him remember how he had ended up in this car. Looking out the window he caught a glimpse of a rusted old mailbox reading “Thénardier” in chipped white letters. They were turning up a steep driveway on a backwoods road in the apparent middle of nowhere. The terrain was uneven and the abrupt jostling of the car had Enjolras suddenly straining against his seatbelt. "Ah, right Éponine's," he remembered.

"Her parent's," Grantaire corrected, "but I’m glad to hear your brain is still working. I wasn't sure you were still alive over there. I stopped at a gas station and I'm pretty sure this lady thought I'd drugged and kidnapped you."

Enjolras shifted into a less painful sitting position, his body stiff from sleep. "Why was she staring into the car?" He wasn't surprised to hear that he had slept overwhelmingly deeply. Usually he was a fairly light sleeper, unless he'd run himself too thin (which happened all too often) and passed out from exhaustion as he had that morning after Courfeyrac had shoved him into Grantaire's car. He had spent all of last night doing as much work as possible before the winter break officially began, knowing that he would have limited internet connection in the approaching days. He hadn't intended to not sleep, as he had only slept all of three hours the night before on a similar mission, it just ended up happening. And so, he had apparently spent all four hours of the car ride, for better or worse, dead asleep and worrying random nosy ladies. 

"While I went in she started tapping on the window and you wouldn't wake up. I knew you wouldn’t wake up because I tried to wake you up before and you opened your eyes, but I'm like ninety percent sure you were still asleep." Grantaire winced as they hit a large pot hole at the top of the hill and turned left, continuing down the driveway.

"I don’t remember it," Enjolras shrugged, “Why did she want my attention? Do I really look so horrible when I sleep that I attract the attention of strangers?”

"I dunno, she didn't seem all there. Tried arguing with me, but I blew her off and left. I was a little worried she might call the cops. Maybe we'll see her in town later and you can tell her I wasn't sex trafficking you or something."

"It would be pretty stupid to put me in the front seat if you were."

"I dunno, in the front I could keep an eye on you and it's less suspicious, I think." He was talking with the air of someone paying more attention to the road than the conversation. The driveway had opened up from forest to field, a little white house sat at the far end of said opening looking perfectly normal, perhaps a bit small and a bit ordinary. There was a kid’s playset off to the side looking neglected next to a trampoline that seemed to have been blown half into the woods and no one had bothered to drag it back. 

"Sensing any spirits yet?" Grantaire drawled as they approached. 

Enjolars rolled his eyes. "Not a one." 

Neither of them believed in that sort of thing, but it was why they were there. Or rather, they were there on Jehan's behalf. Their dear friend Jean Pouvaire had gone on a camping trip over the summer with his family and had at one point gone off my himself. While wandering around, presumably in search of either poisonous or edible plants and ignoring those in between, he had stumbled upon an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere. Upon making this discovery he had done the only thing he could and went inside without informing anyone or even thinking about any potential dangers. The front door was apparently unlocked and the house was filled with junk. He made his way into the kitchen where according to him, he heard someone say his name and when he turned there was a man standing in the darkened doorway. After that he had shrieked, thrown a discarded skillet through the window and crawled through, slicing his hands on the broken glass. 

Since then he had been utterly obsessed with ghosts. 

When Grantaire pointed out that Éponine had grown up in a haunted house which her family still owned, it was decided that a trip had to be arranged. 

"Are you sure? You seem like the sort of person who might secretly have spirit sensing powers."

"I do not!" Enjolars stated in offense though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was taking offense to. His brain was not yet fully awake. 

"You do too. You seem so not likely to believe in the paranormal that you would have some sort of weird power and rationalize the hell out of it in order to retain your inflexible world view," Grantaire explained as if it were a perfectly reasonable conclusion to come to.

"You’re one to talk on inflexible world views," Enjorlas grumbled. "And you don't believe in ghosts either, so all you're saying is that I seem like the sort of person who would see things that aren’t there."

"Exactly. You see things that aren't there all the time: a hopeful future for this country, opportunities for change, faith in humanity... Shall I go on?"

"Not unless you want me to punch you. I'm not awake enough to argue and I'm not above causing you bodily harm."

"Apollo, you can cause me bodily harm anytime you like. But don’t tell Jehan I said that, he might try to recruit you to recruit me as a guinea pig for his medical test mission."

Jehan, when he wasn’t obsessing over the ghostly or writing poetry, was a particular sort of botanist. He looked back at ancient texts (mostly in Greek or Latin) in search of ancient remedies and he was always looking to test how well things worked on his friends. It had led to more than a few rashes and a fair amount of burning pain, though to date it was nothing Joly couldn't fix.

Jehan would obviously never intentionally harm someone in order to test one of his concoctions, but if they were already injured...

Enjolras rolled his eyes, done with this conversation. "Does that Montparnasse guy know we're here?" he asked, realizing neither of them had a key. 

"Yep, I texted him when I stopped at the gas station. He said he'd be right behind us. I also let everyone else know we made it." They came to a stop at the gravel's end and Grantaire parked, looking up at the house before them. "Well, we made it without killing each other. There will be one less haunted car roaming the open roads."

"Sorry I slept the whole time," the blond sighed. Maybe it had saved a good deal of arguing, but Grantaire had made a very long drive without anyone available for conversation and all Grantaire seemed to do was talk. Talk and be obstinate.

"Ah don't worry about it, I listened to four hours of Hardcore History, it made for a less infuriating trip." he shrugged, turning as they heard crunching gravel up the driveway. "That must be the guy." He was driving a Gator. 

Enjolras unsnapped his seatbelt and stepped out into the cold, Grantaire following suit. It was chilly but not freezing. Everything was very wet at the moment, so it had probably been raining earlier in the day. It had been a very wet winter thus far, not that it was officially winter yet.

The man who stepped out of the vehicle was tall, confident and just a little too smooth. 

"You must me Montparnasse," Grantaire greeted, "I'm Grantaire and this is Enjolras. He just woke up so he might be a little cranky. Then again, he’s always like that, so I don’t know why I’m making excuses for him."

Enjolras shot the brunette a glare as Montparnasse laughed. "Good to meet both of you. I'm on kind of a tight schedule, so I hope you don’t mind a speed tour. I've gotta get out if here by four, if you just wanna follow me." He didn’t wait for a response, walking toward the front door, key in hand. “How’s little Éponine, by the way? And the kid. I didn’t know the kid well,” he asked as he unlocked the door.

“She’s good, glad to be off on her own. Gavroche too. Both doing very well,” Grantaire said, diplomatically. In all likelihood Éponine had instructed Grantaire to say as little as possible about her to anyone who might ask. She had cut all ties when she left. It had taken a lot of convincing to get her to contact Montparnasse about the house. 

“Right,” their guide snickered, “Never thought I’d hear from her again. She was always a mean kid when I knew her, tried to throw a brick out her window at me, but here I am doing her a favor,” he gave a long-suffering sigh, “Tell her I took time out of my very busy schedule to take care of you two and have the house clear for a week.”

“We’ll be sure to tell her. Sorry for the inconvenience,” Enjolras cut in before Grantaire could open his mouth and say something he hadn’t thought through. It was infinitely more likely that Éponine had blackmailed him into letting them stay and he could only imagine what Montparnasse might have done to warrant attempted murder via brick. Probably nothing good.

After unlocking the door, he handed the key over to Enjolras. "That's the only key, so don’t lose it." He threw open the door and began listing off rooms. There are two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs." He indicated the staircase just off the side of the entryway. “The kitchen is through here," he led them through a door to the left and into a small, untidy kitchen. "And there's a living room and the master bedroom though here." They walked through a door to the right. "And a bathroom here. This door leads down to the basement. There's a generator down there if the power goes out, the lines out here can be kind of flaky." He rubbed a hand distractedly through his hair. "Sorry the place is a mess," he said without sounding sorry, "they pay me to watch the place but I ain't a maid." 

The place was a mess, but it didn’t feel lived in, it felt strangely empty. That was probably due to the fact that it housed a transient group of people. The remaining Thénardiers living in the house only lived there for certain times during the year when Monsieur Thénardier was doing work in the area, or at least that was the situation when Éponine had left. The rest of the time the property was in the ever-caring hands of Montparnasse. As a result, it looked cluttered, dirty, and yet still empty.

"Adds to the haunted aesthetic," Grantaire said dryly. 

Montparnasse hummed like he was trying to remember something, "Rules are that you should probably stay out of the master bedroom, and the barn, and like just don’t snoop around through shit. But I mean, I don't really give a fuck. Not my house. So, if you find anything weird, it’s not on me..." He stopped as his phone vibrated and he spared it only a cursory glance before swearing. "Shit, I gotta go. You have my number if you need anything." He made off to leave through the hall to the front door, completing the loop they had taken through the house, but Enjolras stopped him. 

"Hang on. Just one question."

He turned around at the door. "Shoot."

"Have you ever seen any ghosts here?"

Montparnasse gave him an indecipherable look. "Well, I'm not one to believe in spirits or whatever, but I don’t spend the night here. Let's put it that way." He gave a wolfish grin, turning through the door and exiting the house. 

"Well, that sounds ominous," Enjorlas frowned. 

"Scared already?" Grantaire smirked, studying a boring painting of a garden that hung on the living room wall. All the pictures on the walls seemed to be trying to convince the passer through that the owners were sophisticated people. They were all boring, classy paintings, probably worth nothing as they hadn’t been stolen and sold off. There were no family photos.

"It takes more than the word of a sketchy caretaker to scare me off."

Grantaire scoffed, "Caretaker is going a little far don’t you think? I'll bet he uses this place just as much as Monsieur Thénardier. He’s actually probably the true owner in terms of use. Not much homely pride though, but maybe you can relate there."

Enjolras was a shockingly messy person when it came to his living space. He wasn't even sure how the messes arose, he would just turn around and realize that his closet looked like it had exploded all over the room and papers covered every other available surface. He always knew where everything was though, and he couldn't stand for people to go messing with the placement of his decidedly organized mess.

"I would never let my house get this bad," he sniffed, defensively, "and you're more likely to find abandoned print outs of old court cases in my place than heroine needles, and I think that rather starkly sets us apart. How much illicit material do you think is stored away on the property?"

"Enough that I wouldn’t want any cops showing up, so I'm warning you. There will be no gratuitous partying."

"Courf is the one you should worry about, or Bahorel."

"Don't pretend you're not a class A super partier, Apollo, I can't abide deceit."

"Abide this." Enjolars flipped him off, walking out the door to retrieve his suitcase as Grantaire sputtered behind him. Outside he caught the tail end of Montparnasse's vehicle disappearing up the driveway. It was somewhat comforting to know he was gone. Éponine probably wouldn’t have let them go if she thought they would be robbed and murdered, but all the same they would keep the doors locked.

After carrying in their luggage, they stood at the foot of the stairs, both checking their phones for service. But alas, nothing. They were stuck in a house without service and without internet connection. For pity’s sake, they were having to rely on a land line in case of emergencies. Who the fuck still used a land line?

After a sullen moment of morning the lack of internet connection Grantaire lowered his phone. "Well I'm not feeling spooked yet, though I am feeling an overwhelming urge to start snooping through things. I have to keep my mind occupied, I’m lacking stimulation." 

“Well, don’t look at me, it’s not my job to stimulate you.”

“Stimulating me doesn’t have to be a job, you could stimulate me just because you want to and don't lie to me, Apollo, you know you want to.”

“Shut up, I- Whatever urges you may be having, I would advise you to heed our hosts advise and not snoop. I'm a little worried about what you might find." He wasn’t exactly sure what sort of things might go on in this house. 

"With any luck, enough to get Ép's dad locked away in a dark tower somewhere, never to return. But I suppose you’re right, I’ll wait for the others. We can do some sort of scavenger hunt meets illicit paraphernalia bingo."

“What we should really do is drive into town to pick up all the food.”

Grantaire gave a dramatic sigh, "Oh fine, be responsible and boring, it’s what you do best."  
“That is aggressively untrue.”

“It’s partially untrue. You never have any fun, but you’re also a fucking crazy person."  
"I am completely rational and sane."

"You are well known to do utterly insane things like, for example, attempting to throttle a poor innocent student in the middle of a lecture.”

“You were trying to get me to punch you!” It had been what Enjolras would go on to think of as their first official interaction. Grantaire had sat beside him in his anthropology lecture and started arguing with him about how to fix the American educational system. He wasn’t even sure how that had come up, but they continued to argue in hushed whispers until eventually Enjolars had stood up, grabbed Grantaire by the front of the shirt and started shaking him. Under normal circumstances he would have never let this happen, but he was running on nothing but caffeine and delirious energy from lack of sleep and Grantaire had a particular talent for getting under his skin. They had been banished from the lecture for the day, and were forbidden from sitting together from then on, although as it turned out Grantaire didn’t even take the class, he had just shown up to enrage Enjolras.

“I would never.”

“You were trying to win a bet, Bahorel told me.” Bahorel had also been the one to tell Grantaire where to find him and collected the winnings after the blond failed to punch him. Enjolras assumed that Grantaire had heard stories about some of his more... involved arguments from Bahorel and, given that he was the most infuriating person in existence, thought he might just be able to drive him insane in an otherwise calm and controlled environment. That was way back in their freshman year.

“I was trying to prove that you were crazy enough to do it. I didn't even know you yet and I knew you would do something wild.”

“Not crazy, just passionate.”

“Violently passionate then. And I didn’t win the bet anyway because you failed to land a punch. I failed to account for your lack of fighting instinct.”

“Now that is just a flat out lie, I can hold my own in a fight.” He had done so in the past.  
“Yes, but it makes me feel better about losing twenty bucks and falling on that poor guy behind me.”

“Whatever, let’s get going before it gets too late.”

“Right behind ya.”

The drive into town was a scenic one, or it would have been if it wasn't mid-December and snowless. Currently everything looked muddy and dead under a muted gray sky. The house was about half an hour outside of town down a winding road along the edge of a steep drop. Grantaire was making up for the lost time on the drive up by babbling on about apparently whatever he could think of. "Éponine said that her bus driver in middle school drove like a madman. Her road was always on Plan A when it was icy so they had to walk to the main road to get picked up, but sometimes they didn't call it and the bus would literally slide down the hills. She's probably lucky to be alive. Do you think all hillbilly kids have terrifying bus drivers?"  
"I wouldn't know, my parents always drove me."

"Ugh, eleven-year-old me is so jealous it's not even funny. Also, just the idea of you as a hillbilly has me in literal stitches."

“What was eleven-year-old you like?” Enjolras suddenly realized he hadn’t ever really thought about Grantaire’s childhood. Or at least he’d never asked about it.

“Huh?” He seemed to have thrown the brunette for a loop.

“What were you like at that age?”

“Oh, I dunno, I was probably an insecure, sarcastic little shit, so not much has changed, I guess. I was a little shorter and had terrible taste in everything, but other than that probably not too much different.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, believe it, Apollo, I was at one point much shorter than I am today.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Maybe. So, what were you like back then? As violently passionate as ever? Beating up republicans on the playground?”

“Possibly. Usually, Combeferre would talk me down before it came to that. I got pretty good at taking punches to prove a point though.”

“Sounds healthy.”

“My parents made me promise to stop after I got a tooth knocked out of place.”

“Which tooth?”

“Front left one. It didn’t get knocked fully out, just nudged out of place by a fist. I had braces in high school so you can’t tell now.”

“Are you telling me you were not blessed from birth with a perfect smile?”

“My teeth were a mess until I was seventeen.”

“I need photographic evidence of this. Please tell me you have pictures.”

“Believe it or not, I do not carry around childhood photos of myself like some sort of weirdo.” The words came out defensively, but he didn’t actually care if Grantaire saw his messed-up teeth, he was never particularly bothered by flaws in his appearance. The words were more for the express purpose of being difficult. 

"Snaggle toothed Enjolras, snaggle-jolras," he giggled childishly.

"You are the actual worst."

"Oh, come now, Apollo, I'm sure you were a perfectly adorable child, angry and snaggle toothed as you were. At least now if you bite someone they won’t immediately know it was you."

"Because that is a situation that I often find myself in."

"Hey, I'm just saying. You know what forensic evidence is like, they'll never find the right person without a unique bite. Just keep that in mind next time you find yourself meeting prominent political figures."  
They continued to bicker their way to the grocery store where the shopping ended up taking longer than expected, but then they were shopping for thirteen people. Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Marius, Cosette, Joly, Musichetta, Jehan, Bossuet and Bahorel would all be coming down to stay in the house the next day. However, Joly might be too freaked out to actually stay, it took a good deal of persuading on the part of Musicetta and Bossuet for him to commit. Fueilly and Éponine couldn’t get off work, but Éponine didn't want to go back to the house anyway. 

Enjolars made sure to check his phone while they had service and let his friends know that they weren't at each other's throats yet. His friends seemed oddly invested in knowing what was going on, particularly Courfeyrac, which made him suspicious but he couldn't think of what would motivate that interest. Perhaps he made a bet on the type of physical or emotional damage they would inflict on each other, that seemed like something he might do.

Grantaire and Enjolras had been sent out ahead because Enjolras had been driving everyone insane, so he was banished from the apartment a day early out of concern for everyone’s sanity. Grantaire was supposed to be going up to meet Montparnasse anyway and Courfeyrac had somehow convinced him to take Enjolars along. Enjolras suspected blackmail. That seemed the only plausible reason Grantaire would elect to spend this much time alone with him. Not that it was going badly so far... Secretly a tiny part of him was glad they were being forced to spend time together. Grantaire had joined their friend group shortly after the anthropology incident when Bahoral brought him to one of the ABC meetings. He had been disruptive and argumentative but everyone had taken to him instantly. Everyone except their unofficial leader. All these years later it had come to the point where Enjolras wanted to make friends rather than remaining friends by association but was unsure of how to do that exactly. Maybe this was his chance.  
When they returned to the house it was well past dark out. As soon as the groceries were put in place Grantaire put in a frozen pizza. 

"Should we take a look upstairs?" Enjolras asked, their suitcases were still sitting in the hall. 

"Sure. Oh also, what's the plan for tomorrow? Nobody's getting here until late so we have basically a free day." The plan was that everyone would get there by eight. 

Enjolras shrugged, "We could go to the library and look at articles about the murder. I don’t know if Jehan wanted to go through the whole ghost investigator thing himself, but I think two of us would be more productive than the whole crew in a tiny library."

"Yeah, not that I wouldn’t love to get thrown out of the library but you're probably right." 

According to Éponine there had been a murder in the house immediately before her parents had bought it (that was evidently why they were able to afford it). In her words “Some hick loser blew his wife's brains out after he found out she was cheating on him then offed himself. A murder suicide type of deal.” She wasn't sure whose ghost did the haunting. 

The two non-ghostly inhabitants of the house made their way up the stairs, luggage in hand.   
They first opened the door to the left. 

"This must have been Éponine and Azelma's room," Grantaire observed as Enjolras flicked on the light. The walls were dark purple and covered with posters, drawings and pictures. It looked like the room of a teenager, but still had a number of childhood articles. It was hard to say which side belonged to which girl, as any evidence of Éponine seemed to have been removed when she ran away at eighteen. 

It seemed that no one had been in for a long while, the two twin beds stood at either end of the small room, perfectly made. This room was different from what they had seen from the rest of the house in that it was not a complete mess, perhaps indicating that Azelma still used it. She had still been following their parents when Éponine had gone, unable to convince her sister to go along.

"How many times do you think they had to repaint the walls because Ép scribbled all over them," Grantaire wondered. Darling Éponine had a bad habit of drawing and writing all over the walls if you didn't watch her. She liked to draw threats on Enjolras' walls. Usually after having everyone over he would find a stick figure with curly hair on a pyre or being sawed in half or something equally horrible with an arrow indicating that the stick figure was him. He couldn't remember having ever wronged her, but then a lot of people seemed to hate him and he didn't have the time or energy to waste on figuring out why. Plus, Éponine seemed to hate a number of people without reason. He just had to hope she never carried out those threats.

"Probably only once. Get rid of it all in one go." Probably when she moved out.

"You’re probably right. Ugh, I can see why she didn't want to come back here. It’s bumming me out and I didn't even live it." He moved down the hall to the other room. "And here's Gavroche's room." 

It was a smaller space with light blue walls. There was an empty terrarium full of rocks and dead plants on one side and an empty fish tank on the other. This room fit the look of the rest of the house, lived in by strangers but still with the original elements of the owner in place. The walls were covered in torn pages from books and the shelves were covered in weird rocks and wood carvings, though nothing that looked like it was worth anything.

Grantaire sighed, "I'd ask which room you want, but Éponine told me to stay out of hers."  
"I suppose it's the girls room for me then." That was fine with him, he didn’t care either way. 

The oven timer when off downstairs and they hurried back to tend to the pizza. 

"I'm trying to imagine your childhood room,” Grantaire said, setting the pizza tray on the stove top to cool, “but all I can picture is a small angry child writing letters to his congressman at a 18th century gentleman's desk. Now that I think about it, you would fit in pretty well as a 18th century dandy. I bed you'd also make a pretty good vampire."

"Are you accusing me of something?" Enjolras said absently as he searched for a pizza cutter and found only an ordinary steak knife. Well, that would have to do.

"Of being a vampire or an eternal dandy? Possibly. I’ve been told I need to open my mind to the possibilities. Be optimistic, you know."

"It would be a pretty dangerous time to accuse me of being a vampire, if I were one."

"Why's that?"

"Well, you are trapped in a haunted house with me. Anything could happen and I could just blame the ghosts." He began cutting the pizza. To hell with waiting for it to cool, he was hungry.  
"I'm not sure the cops would buy that ghosts killed me in this situation when an obvious vampire is telling the story and the body turns up drained of blood."

"Who said anything about draining you of blood? I would never be so obvious about it. It would be more to my advantage to drain you slowly to a reasonable anemic level then allow you to have some accident. But even if I could not resist you and the police brought me in, I am a vampire and I can be very persuasive." Enjolras gave his best imitation of a vampire’s hypnotic stare, for a moment taking in Grantaire’s positively tickled face before he then proceeded to slice his finger open. "Oops." Without thinking he stuck the finger in his mouth. 

Grantaire grabbed the hand and pulled it away from his mouth to inspect the damage. It really wasn’t that bad but as soon as it was free it began oozing down his finger.

"Hang on, I've got bandaids upstairs." Grantaire trotted off toward the stairs, smacking into the table as he left and swearing. As he left Enjolras started running his finger under the tap, listening to Grantaire rummage around through the floor above him. After a moment, he paused feeling off kilter. He couldn’t quite place the feeling other than a heaviness in the air. He shook himself, turning when he heard a creek overhead and for a split second he thought he’d seen something move out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned toward it all he saw was an empty window to the darkness outside.

He snorted, chiding himself for letting the ghost talk get to him as Grantaire stumbled back into the room with a pack of superhero bandaids.

“Now let’s see, who to give you,” he mused, rifling through the box before pulling out a batman bandaid as Enjolras shook the water from his finger, which was still bleeding a little.

Grantaire quickly patched the wound. 

"I guess you aren't a vampire after all."

"Vampires can't bleed?"

"Well, I suppose they can, but I dunno, I guess I'm thinking of the people from the x files. They were like clones or something and their blood was toxic. Or maybe they were human-alien hybrids. I don't remember, things got confusing." He took the knife and picked up cutting where Enjolras left off.

“Why did you give me a batman one?” he asked as he began taking his share of the food.

“Because honestly your faith in humanity is a little too superman, so I like to imagine there’s a universe out there where you’re a more cynical, edgy vigilante type. Actually, superman would have been way more fitting, you probably are some sort of alien.”

“First a vampire, now an alien.”

“What can I say, you are a suspiciously strange person.”

They walked into the living room and set Grantaire’s laptop on the coffee table in front of them, he had It on blueray, which Enjolras had not yet seen.

"I don't actually like Stephen King." Grantaire said as the movie started. 

"Why not?" Enjolras asked, feeling like this was the start of a rant that was going to irritate him. He had never been much of a horror fan, he never saw the point.

"I value his contribution to the horror genre, but I hate the way he writes. I always hate the characters and it's usually a lot of boring shit before the ending disappoints you."

"Stop it, you're going to infect my enjoyment of his work."

"Sorry.... One more thing."

"Grantaire."

"You wanna know what may favorite thing about him is?"

"No."

"My favorite thing is that he got hit by a van once. Like it was really serious and everything, but for some reason I find it hilarious and it makes me feel like a bad person."

"That's horrible and you are a bad person."

"Well at least on that we agree... I do like this movie though."

They watched the movie in comfortable silence, something he hadn’t been sure Grantaire was capable of. He found himself oddly enjoying it. After the movie’s end they split off in a mostly non-literal sense as they were still sharing the same couch but Enjolras started working on some things on his laptop and Grantaire was drawing. They didn’t head up to bed until nearly one. After brushing their teeth, they parted ways, Enjolras with a pleasant "Goodnight." and Grantaire with a teasing grin and a warning not to "let any ghostly figures crawl into bed with you."

When Enjolars found himself finally in bed, having taken the twin closest to the door, he spent a long while lying on his back staring up at the ceiling. A few moments before he had felt tired enough for sleep, but now his eyes refused to shut. He sighed, turning to the side facing inward toward the room, but after a persistent prickling at the back of his neck he turned toward the wall, pulling his covers up around his shoulders and feeling childish. 

After a few false starts, jerking awake at the point of sleep, he finally drifted off only to wake an indeterminant amount of time later feeling something touch his hair. He was, in an instant, fully awake and ready to throw a mouse out of his bed but there was nothing there. With an exhausted sigh he pressed his face into his hands before laying back down, this time drifting off more easily. It must have been a dream. 

Later still, he opened his eyes to the darkness and was unable to breathe; suddenly gasping, openmouthed, but not able to take in air for a few terrifying seconds. When he finally sucked in a shaky lungful of oxygen he laid there frozen, too terrified to move.

Irrational. He was being irrational. He was awake now and he was fine. He had a vague memory of this happening once before when he was very small and he had been fine then, he would be fine now. Still, he was stiff with fear. To be honest he wasn't even sure what he was afraid of, but the fear gripped him so tightly it was suffocating. As soon as he found his courage, he rolled over, completely covering his head in blankets like the comforter would shield him from harm. He remained awake and unmoving until light was coming through the windows.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> E and R visit the library, explore the grounds, and maybe get along while a snowstorm looms.

Enjolras regained his courage with the sun around eight AM, having before that remained curled under his covers. Seeing the brightened room gave him some comfort. It was so strange, from where he was sitting now he could not fathom his reaction only hours earlier. His state of mind was the only thing to blame as there hadn't been anything physical to manifest his fear aside from his sudden inability to breathe, but then that hadn't really been what frightened him. He hadn't been afraid that when he went back to sleep he would stop breathing, he had been afraid that something in the darkness would reach out and... and what? Obviously, his mind was playing tricks on him. There was just something about unexplained things happing in the night that made one feel like a helpless little kid. Surely, greater individuals than he had stared into the darkness and found only childish fear. Still, at the back of his head he was plotting out a way to ask Grantaire about what Éponine had experienced in this house while making it seem organic in conversation. He hadn't heard her account both because she didn't seem to like him (so they did not spend much time together) and because he hadn't expected to see anything and didn't want her bias to influence his perception. Not that he thought he was experiencing anything like that now. He was just... Curious. The terrified mind of a little girl must work in strange ways and it might make for an interesting comparison to the fears of an adult. That was all. Nothing else.

Using the confidence that the light had instilled in him, he dragged out his laptop and distractedly fiddled with some papers until he heard Grantaire get up around nine. He let a good thirty minutes pass before following so as not to seem to eager to seek out comfort in human contact. As he shambled his way into the kitchen he realized that Grantaire was making food.

"The lord of light awakes!" Grantaire announced, brandishing a large spoon as he turned to greet the exhausted blond, then stopped when he caught sight of Enjolras' pale face. "Jesus, Apollo, did you even sleep?" he sounded genuinely concerned, which put Enjolras on edge.

"I slept fine. Well, not fine, but I slept as well as I usually do," he said defensively. That was mostly a lie, but only mostly because on a fairly regular basis he slept far worse than his body would like. Usually it was due to racing thoughts and an inability to relax, not blood chilling terror and an inability to breathe.

Sensing his desire to change the subject, Grantaire pressed on like the absolute bastard he was. "Did the ghosts keep you awake? I told you they would try to slip into bed with you if you weren't careful. Even the dead can't resist a face like that."

"I was just thinking too much, it happens all the time," he said calmly, "Although, I'm pretty sure at one point I did wake up because a mouse tried to burrow into my hair."

"I feel that," the brunette intoned in a way that it was hard to be sure if he was sympathizing with the plight of Enjolras or the mouse.

"Right," he fumbled for something to say, "Well uh, did you sleep alright?"

"Like a baby in a haunted manor. Speaking of babies. I made a Dutch baby for breakfast."

"Ah, I forgot you like to actually cook."

"Yeah well, I wasn't about to let you near the kitchen equipment after what happened at Combeferre's."

Enjolras' last attempt at cooking had to be thrown out in one of Joly's medical waste bags. At one point in the creation of that health hazard there was an incident with his shirt catching fire at the sleeve. Luckily, Grantaire had wandered in and dumped a glass of water on him. Enjolras was grateful until Grantaire decided that he now owed a blood debt that still had yet to be claimed.

"That's fair," he had to admit. It wasn't that he couldn't cook... He just tended to get caught up in other things while he was trying to follow the instructions and then things would boil over or catch on fire or he'd lose his place and improvise something... Really. It wasn't that he couldn't, he was just a very distracted cook.

"And don't think I've forgotten your blood debt."

"I forgot about it until just now. I think I'd feel better if you just asked me to do something horrible."

"Maybe I just like holding something over your head."

"Then I suppose I should get used to the feeling."

"I'll just save it for a special occasion, I think."

Enjolras sighed and rubbed at his tired eyes. When he looked up Grantaire was giving him a strange face. "What?"

"Nothing. I just- Are you sure you're okay? You just seem a little off."

"I'm fine. I'm used to existing in a constant state of exhaustion."

Grantaire did not look convinced. "Well, if you get the urge to go all murder suicide let me know. I want to be prepared."

"I'll keep that in mind," Enjolras said tensely. There was a strained pause before the oven timer went off and the baby was removed from the oven.

Grantaire was apparently a good cook because he made a delicious Dutch baby, which they ate with syrup and mixed berries. After breakfast they drove down to the library. As soon as he had service, Enjolras started getting texts asking if they had survived the night, which he answered affirmatively.

The library was busier than anticipated, though mostly around the computer area.

"This reminds me of my town library," Grantaire mused, "All the kids with shitty parents would go there when school was out to use the computers."

Enjolras let out a measured sigh. "They shouldn't have to do that, there should be a better system in place to take care of kids in bad situations."

Grantaire groaned, "I shouldn't have said anything. Spare me the rant on behalf of the downtrodden Appalachian children."

"All I'm saying is that-"

"No, I don't want to get thrown out of this library before we even start. We are here on a mission. Think of the ghosts or Jehan, we cannot disappoint our poor lovely Jehan."

"Fine. Fine. But I hold back my wrath for Jehan's sake, not yours."

"How can I possibly go on with that knowledge. You have dealt a fatal blow, my dear friend."

"Come on, we have papers to look through."

A helpful librarian guided them to an area off to the side with three ancient looking microfilm machines and many cabinets worth of materials.

"Holy shit, I've never used one of these before," Grantaire said in awe as if the machine held some sort of ancient wisdom.

"I have. They are really annoying. Its so much easier to google things. Any idea what year we should be looking at?"

"Ép said they moved in when she was about three so... 97 maybe?"

"I guess that's a good start."

After hours of scrolling through rolls of microfilm they found the crime, which occurred on November 7, 1996. They actually got lucky in that all of November 1996 had been placed in a box labeled November 1997 and Grantaire had been so tired of reading newspapers at that point that he hadn't noticed.

According to the papers, a family friend of the homeowner found the two bodies in the living room days after they had gone missing. However, they weren't man and wife as Éponine had said. The homeowner was a mister Mabeuf and the woman was a young miss Floreal.

Everything they could find said that mister Mabeuf was a perfectly lovely person, a Vietnam veteran and a prominent member of the church, no one could have seen it coming. Miss Floreal had worked as a waitress in a local restaurant and there wasn't much about her to be said. It seemed as though no one even knew that they knew one another, they did not exactly run in the same circle of friends.

There were some kind words said in the obituaries of both parties but other than that, nothing more. The police had failed to find any motive behind mister Mabeuf shooting miss Floreal and then himself, anything they had to say was purely speculation. It was quite frustrating in the way that all unsolved crimes were, but there wasn't any justice to be served with both parties dead, so the town had moved on, at least in a legal manor. Surely, there had been no end to the gossip.  
"Well, now we can say it actually happened." Enjolras said when it grew apparent that they had all the information available.

"Yeah," Grantaire leaned so far back in his chair that he was on the edge of falling. "And murder suicide seems a pretty good reason to haunt a house, I'd say."

"Why do you think he did it?"

"Well, we don't have much to go on so anything I said would be a complete guess."

"Guess away."

"Fine, then I think this guy discovered he had some sort of fowl demon living in his house that desired as sacrifice, so he went out and seduced this lady. So that he could give her soul to the demon, of course, but it turned out that there was a little miscommunication and the demon wanted his soul all along."  
"I was hoping for something a little more grounded."

"Okay, then maybe they were having a little affair behind her boyfriend's back. She broke it off and he lost it."

"That seems more plausible."

"What were you thinking?"

"Temporary insanity. Maybe he abducted and killed her while in an altered state of mind."

"That is a little more terrifying. I would absolutely haunt a place if I were a random victim."

"Did Éponine say she actually saw a female ghost in the house?"

"I don't think she ever saw a female ghost but she always got that impression."

"What did she say she experienced in the house overall?" he asked as if the question hadn't been burning in his mind all morning. "Just as a comparison to what we know happened."

"Are you trying to use Éponine's ghost sightings to find a motive for murder? I thought you didn't want to be influenced by her experience."

"Well, now that we're here I'm curious."

"Well, she said that she always used to see things moving out of the corner of her eye, especially in the basement; Then she and her sister would hear footsteps in the downstairs hall; Once she woke up and saw someone standing beside her in bed; Azelma used to hear people talking when no one was around; And they always thought ghosts would misplace their things but now she thinks that was just her dad or his friends snooping through their stuff. Oh, she also said Gavroche got scratched in his sleep once. After that her dad started bringing in people to stay overnight in the house and playing it up. They made a whole production of it. Made Gavroche sleep in the girl's room while they would set up speakers to make sounds and generally fuck with people in his room until they left, satisfied that the place was haunted. Overall, she said that she believed the house really was haunted by the woman that was killed there, but she claimed that she wasn't scared of her, she was just sad the poor soul couldn't get away from her shitty family." His tone was matter-o-fact, no hint of mockery. He had expressed the sentiment before they had driven out to the house that he believed that Éponine believed what she was saying so he wasn't about to be a dick about it, likely because an angry Éponine was a dangerous entity.

Enjolras considered Éponine's experiences carefully. All of those things seemed ambiguous enough to dismiss as a product of childhood paranoia. If there was a history of any of the home residents waking up struggling for breath he might have been worried, silly as it might seem. Still, it was heartening to know that Éponine was not afraid of the house despite believing it was haunted, although Éponine didn't seem to be afraid of very much anyway.

"Well, I'm not sure what I expected but that doesn't say anything about the crime as far as I can tell."

"Look at you, playing paranormal investigator. Where did that stubborn nonbeliever go?"

"I'm just trying to get into the mindset. I thought Jehan would appreciate it."

"Sure, but I'd like to state for the record that I'm beginning to doubt your disbelief."

"Your disbelief is noted. Is there anything else you wanted to do while we're still in town?"

"Nah, I mean if we really wanted to be paranormal investigators we would go around town asking about the murder-suicide, but I don't really want to do that."  
"Nor do I." He would if that was what Jehan wanted but let him tackle that beast.

"Wonderful, so we can head back for lunch if you want."

"Fine with me."

* * *

When they exited the car back at the house the air felt noticeably colder under the overcast sky.

"Looks like it might snow," Grantaire noted, "We should have checked the weather while we were out. Hopefully, the roads won’t get too bad."

Once inside they did check the weather channel, which was projecting heavy snowfall later on in the day on top of ice from all the recent rain. Not a good combination, it did not bode well for their soon to be traveling friends.

They made sandwiches for lunch then decided to go explore the yard.

The dead grass crunched underfoot as the two snuck around the side of the house toward the barn, which was set slightly back and to the left of the home. It was large but not overly so, made of sturdy, white painted wood and standing at the top of the start of the hill whose slope began just beyond the house.  
Grantaire approached the barn and gave it a knock as if expecting someone to answer it and let them in. Thankfully no one did. "What do you think is in there?"

"Could be a meth lab," Enjolras shrugged, searching the wooden walls for cracks but finding none aside from the telltale signs of woodpecker damage at the top corners.

"Amongst other things. I always got the impression Eponine's parents were more in the scamming business than drug manufacture, but I'm sure they dabble."

"Let's not light the barn on fire, just in case."

There was a pause. "You would make a glorious arsonist." Grantaire was looking at him but his mind was obviously elsewhere.

"...Thank you?"

Grantaire blinked. "Sorry, that was probably a weird thing to say."

"Probably not the weirdest thing you've said to me."

"I do say a lot of weird things to you, don't I?"

"You say weird things to everyone," Enjolras rolled his eyes and started down the hill.

"That's true. It's part of my charm, I suppose. Still, never be afraid to tell me to shut up. I won’t listen and I'll silently resent you for it."

The bottom of the hill met a treeline trailing back into a valley. They wandered back through a sizable amount of briars until they reached a small creek at the valley's side.

"You know, I'm quite impressed, Apollo, I always took you for a city slicker type."

When they had come to the briars Grantaire had expected Enjolras to steer them back toward the house, which made Enjolras feel that he had something to prove and so he had crawled on hands and knees through the wall of pesky plants. Besides, he wanted to check out the valley anyway.

"I am a multifaceted individual and I grew up in a middle of nowhere town, we didn't move into the city until I was in high school." It hadn't been a far move, he kept in contact with Combeferre and met Courfeyrac at his new school. "I used to get angry and hike around in my backyard until I had gathered my thoughts."

"Enjolras the mountain man. I'm sorry I doubted you."

The valley was pretty enough, the side closer to the house was not too steep a slope and the house loomed though the trees. On the other side cliffs rose up after a more substantial climb. The trees there were for the most part evergreen, concealing the creek in some places along the bank. It painted a fair picture, though the gray sky cast an ominous light over the scene. They stopped for a moment, listening as a gust of wind blew through the branches causing the trees to creek and groan. Enjolras shivered with the sudden desire to head back.

Instead of walking back the way they had come, Enjolras led them farther through the valley, following the line of the property and bringing them out next to the playset at the top of the hill.

"We have to save that poor trampoline." Grantaire said, running up to the half-overgrown thing.

With some effort and a little bit of plant kicking, they managed to drag the trampoline away from the woods at which point Grantaire immediately climbed on and started jumping. Enjolras' heart stuttered for a moment as the springs gave a horrifically strained screech, but they held fast.

"Come on, Apollo, bounce with me!"

"The springs are rusting out of the frame," Enjolras argued, shivering slightly. They were just starting to get flurries of snow.

"Come on! Take a chance, live a little!"

"Fine." he clambered up and stood awkwardly at the edge as Grantaire bounced around at the center.

"Oh, Relax," Grantaire grabbed his arms and pulled him away from the edge.

"I feel silly."

"Good, trampolines are meant for fun." He started jumping, bouncing Enjolras with him. Enjolras continued to be thoroughly uncomfortable on the trampoline. As Grantaire took to deliberately trying to bounce him higher than he wished to go, he finally sat down and refused to jump anymore and Grantaire had then taken to bounce-skipping in circles around him until he had exhausted himself and flopped onto his back. They watched the snow fall for a while, wondering when their friends would arrive.

When they finally went back inside Enjolras had decided to take a shower because he felt frozen down to his soul. In order to do that he had to retrieve his things from his suitcase, which was in his room, which made him nervous. As soon as he reached the top of the stairs he felt dread pool heavily in his chest as if something terrible awaited him just through that doorframe. After a moment's hesitation he forced himself past the doorway which was the strangest sensation. The air felt thick and warm, it made his chest feel tight and his hair raise on end. It felt inexplicably... active. Vibrating with unspent energy.

But he was just imagining things, he told himself as he very calmly walked out of the room, having gathered all he needed. All in his head.

* * *

Around six the phone started ringing. Grantaire stepped forward like he was going to answer but Enjolras was closer. Hopefully it wasn't someone the Thénardiers knew, he wasn't in the mood to speak with any criminals. Not that he was ever in a particular mood to speak with criminals... Well, perhaps he had a thing or two to say to them about their rights, the prison industrial complex, furthering their education…. but that was beside the point.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Enjolras? It's Courfeyrac." The voice in the from the phone was loud enough that he had to hold it away from his head. Grantaire had sat down on the couch nearby, scribbling away on a piece of paper, but he could probably hear what was being said.

"Hey Courf, how are the roads? The weather isn't looking great around here."

"Yeah, that's why I called. It's a mess. We've been in the car for two hours, but we've only made an hour's worth of progress and it's not letting up. Bahorel nearly slid off the road a minute ago, so I think we're going to stay the night somewhere and hopefully the roads will be better in the morning after they've been salted and plowed."

"That sounds like a good idea."

"We don't want any more haunted highways!" Grantaire shouted for Courfeyrac to hear.

"Will you two be fine alone for another night? You know how we worry after your people skills, E, especially where Grantaire is concerned."

"We will be fine, I promise. We haven't killed each other yet, we might even be getting along better than usual."

"I knew forcing you two together would be a good idea! Someday you'll thank me. Have you seen any ghosts yet?"

"No-" he was cut off when Grantaire grabbed the phone from him.

"He says no, but I think our little Enjolars is holding out. The spirits in this old house have piqued his interest and he's suddenly very curious about ghosts."  
He could hear Courfeyrac laughing.

"I'm just trying to have fun with this!" he argued.

"Sure sure, but you never even tried to show any interest before."

"Maybe I wasn't giving it a fair chance." he snatched the phone back. "Anyway, I hope the roads are better by morning."

"Yeah, we'll call in then with our plans."

"Alright, talk to you then."

"Don't let the ghouls get you."

"Goodbye."

"Bye, Courf."

"Later, my dear friends."

"Well, I guess it's dinner for two then," Grantaire sighed. Enjolras couldn't tell whether or not the other man was upset by this information. While he was not glad his friends were trapped in bad weather, he was secretly somewhat enjoying his time with Grantaire.

The artist made stir fry pasta for dinner while Enjolras hung around doing work in his presence. They again ate in front of the tv. They had elected to watch Ghost Adventures, or rather Grantaire had, because he stole the remote when they sat down. By the time they finished eating Enjolras was at his wits end.

"I cannot take any more of this show. It is melting my brain."

"Too scary for you?"

"They're just so- so- so douchey, it's driving me insane."

"I choose to find it amusing.

"Please change the channel."

"I don't know, I think I'd like to know how this one ends."

"Grantaire, I am begging you, please change the channel."

"Fine, fine. You know I cant say no to you."

"All you ever do is tell me no. Your entire person around me expresses the sentiment 'no'."

"I think its more of a 'now, wait a minute' than a 'no'. If I were saying no, I would just walk away, but instead I choose to engage and call you out on your bulllshit."

"So your mission is to irritate me to death. Well done, mission accomplished now have pity on me and change the channel."

"Well now you've got me wondering, what's in it for me?"

"The chance to watch a better show?"

"Boo."

"My eternal gratitude."

"Lame."

"Well then I guess there's nothing in it for you and you'll just have to do it out of the kindness in your heart."

"There is only a dark pit where my heart should be, Apollo."

"That's a really sad story, R, now change the channel or else."

"Such sweet sympathy, I wondered when the threats would start."

Enjolras attacked while his guard was down. Grantaire tried to hold the remote over his head but Enjolras put a knee on his legs and held him in place as he reached over for the remote. In the process he may have given Grantaire a face full of his chest but as soon as he had the remote firmly in hand he rolled back onto his side. Grantaire made an attempt to retake it but was subsequently shoved off the couch. He laid on the floor in defeat as Enjolras switched to the history channel.

"Ugh I don't want to learn anything! At least switch it to something fun."

"I won this remote, now you don't get a say."

"You're so cruel to me," he whined.

"You bring it upon yourself. Now get off the floor, who knows when the last time it was cleaned."

"Just let me wallow here in the filth, this is my home now. It's where I belong."

Enjolras rolled his eyes and leaned back to watch a show about the history of cars. Not really his thing but sure. He was careful to keep the remote clutched to his chest.

The sneak attack came only moments after he let his guard slip. As Grantaire grabbed the remote Enjolras instinctively curled his body around it, but his fingers quickly were pried away. Grantaire blocked his attempts to win back the remote by, sitting on the edge of the couch and leaning back, trapping Enjolras against the back cushion.

He switched to the syfy channel where Star Trek The Original Series was playing.

"I curse you," Enjolras said softly causing Grantaire to look down at him.

"Curse me all you like, I won this remote fair and square." he gave Enjolras' hair an aggressive ruffle and was again shoved off the couch, but he had won the remote for the evening.

One episode later Grantaire had returned to his place before the squabble and Enjolras was engrossed in the show. "This show infuriates me. I know it's the 60s, but did they think people were idiots? Their messages are so blatant and that first one didn't even make sense. Who wrote this garbage?"

"Hush, Apollo. Don't think about it an enjoy the terrible choreography."

"But they obviously want me to think about it!"

"Be the bigger person and let it go."

"A bigger person than a terrible tv show?"

"A bigger person than Gene Roddenberry, the dickbag bird of the galaxy. Actually, you should watch the next generation. It's aggressively preachy about how awesome people are. It could give you a model to base your future utopia on."

"If I did create a utopia, would you choose to live in it?"

"Absolutely, but I'm positive I would be immediately kicked out for disturbing the peace."

"You could join my council and be the dissenting voice. Stop me from going mad with power."

"I cant even imagine what you would do mad with power. You're already too fucking much with no power at all."

"I'm not powerless. My power is just limited."

"You didn't even have the power to stop Coufeyrac from forcing you to come here early with me."

"Well, Courfeyrac is a force of nature," the blond reasoned, "but I didn't try that hard. I assumed he blackmailed you into taking me away."

"Why would you think that?"

"You hate nearly all of my opinions, I didn't think you would subject yourself to that if you didn't have to." he shrugged.

"I don't hate your opinions. I just doubt your optimism and ability to enact change for the world. It's not like I hate you as a person."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. I don't hate you as a person either."

"Really?" he sounded surprised.

"What do you mean 'really'? Of course not. You just drive me absolutely insane with frustration sometimes-"

"Now, that doesn't sound good."

"No. I mean, don't take it personally. All of my favorite things make me insanely angry. I just get passionate and my enthusiasm is often misinterpreted."

"Does that make me one of your favorite things?"

"I- that didn't come out how I intended. I mean- I just meant that I tend to get overly invested in our arguments and then things get out of hand because you push my buttons. I don't hate you and I'm glad I came here with you. It's nice to have slightly less argumentative conversations for once." He was rambling a bit.

Grantaire seemed shocked for a moment but quickly recovered his teasing air. "Well, Apollo, I am touched. Just because you're being nice, don't expect me not to go on pressing your buttons though. You're too fun to make angry."

"I-" Enjolras was cut off by the horrible beeping of an emergency weather broadcast announcing that ice and heavy snowfall was predicted for the area. They had nearly half an inch already and the snowfall was beginning to pick up.

"Is it weird that I always loved the emergency weather robot's voice?" Grantaire asked after the terrifying beeps had faded.

"Yes?"

"I just feel like he's about to tell me the world is ending."

"I also feel that way but it tends to fill me with dread."

"I love it. I also love when tornado sirens go off."

"Do you have a death wish?"

"Maybe. Sometimes I get bored and I wish terrible things would happen. I often wonder how I would fair in an apocalypse situation."

"Please try not to will anything terrible into existence. Not that I think you could."

"Hey, don't doubt my ability to manifest chaos."

Hours later, Enjolars was slumped nearly sideways in his seat, his eyes drooping dangerously. He wasn't sure what they were watching anymore. He was so tired, but delaying going to bed, he wasn't sure whether or not Grantaire could sense it. He probably could because he kept looking over at him. He was half asleep when Grantaire nudged him and suggested they retire for the night after which he reluctantly traveled up to his room.

Said room had the same charged weight that it had earlier in the day, though it felt more sinister in the dead of night. For a few moments he stared out the window, watching the snow fall with the lights on to distract himself from his irrational nervousness. He allowed himself to gather his courage before turning out the lights and bundling himself up under the covers.

He slipped more easily into sleep than he had the night before, too bone tired to resist out of fear. When his eyes flew open he was breathless and gasping for the second time in two days. Blind, his eyes searched the darkness as if trying to find some figure strangling the life out of him but there was nothing there. When his lungs were finally able to draw in air he sat up, clutching his throat, eyes scanning the room. Still nothing there and yet he could feel eyes boring into him, angry and urging him out. Out. He had to get out of the room.

He wasn't sure what actually set him in motion but one moment he was sitting, frozen in place, and the next he was rolling out of bed in a blind panic. He all but threw himself against the door and stumbled into the hallway. Without thinking he wrenched open the door to Grantaire's room and flipped on the light, nearly slamming the door behind him.

He stood there for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, back against the door, drawing in shallow and shaky breaths, and startled at his own behavior.

"What the hell-" Enjolras eyes flew open in a whole-body flinch and he saw that across the room Grantaire was sitting up, wincing at the sudden light and attempting to comprehend what was happening. He went pale when he processed the blonde's distress. "Shit, Enjolras, are you alright?" he sounded alarmed as he threw his covers aside and hurried toward him.

"I'm fine," Enjolras said unsteadily, too keyed up and adrenaline filled to feel silly yet.

"What happened?" he waved a hand like he wanted to do something with it but stopped short and let it fall.

"I can't-" he took a breath, "I can't sleep in that room anymore."

"Okay, we can trade if you-" he turned like he was going to gather up his stuff and move rooms so Enjolras grabbed him by the arm.

"No! No, I mean, I don't think anyone should sleep in there." And he was shocked at how strongly he felt in that opinion.

"Why not?" he asked slowly.

"I- It's just-"

"Don't tell me it's haunted." he joked but the smile faded as Enjolras did not return it. "Shit, well if it is haunted I definitely want to sleep in there. Or I can check under the bed for monsters if it would make you feel better." he made a grab for the doorknob and Enjolras grabbed his other arm, backing him a step away from the door. Grantaire seemed stunned.

"No, listen, Grantaire, please. I'm sure I'll feel really stupid about this in the morning but please don't go in there. I'll sleep on the floor and I won’t bother you, I promise. Just please don't." He knew he was clutching at Grantaire's arms a little too tightly but he couldn't relax.

"Okay. Okay, fine. I'm sorry." Grantaire broke his grip and took both hands in his, clasped together at the palms like he was praying and held them to his chest. "Calm down. I'm not going anywhere. You can have the bed if you want. You look like you need it more than me," he spoke soothingly, staring as if he could subdue Enjolras panic with force of will.

Enjolras shook his head and withdrew his shaking hands. "No, I'm already being an inconvenience I'm not going to throw you out of bed."

"Well, I'd offer to share but it is just a twin."

Part of Enjolras wanted to insist on sharing, just to have another person close. But he was already feeling like a burden, so he shook his head. "Just give me a pillow and an extra blanket and I'll lay on the floor, I probably won't sleep anyway."

"If you're sure." Grantaire stepped toward the bed and Enjolars let him go. Enjolars make shift bed was quickly constructed, Grantaire giving him more than his fair share of blankets.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Grantaire asked as Enjorlas stood ready to turn out the lights. "We can leave the lights on if you want."

"I'm fine." he was too raddled to be indignant about such a childish question. He flipped off the light and laid on the floor. He stared up at the ceiling for a long time listening to the slow breathing of Grantaire sinking back into sleep before a prickling panicked feeling returned to him.

In the darkness he turned his head toward the door, seemingly not in control of his own actions. He wasn't sure how, but he was absolutely certain that something was out there. Unable to pull his eyes away, he made his breathing shallow as if that would save him from detection. He could feel whatever it was out there pause directly in front of the door. In his mind’s eye he could almost see it, some ambiguously and ill-defined it, bending down to peak at him from through the crack in the bottom of the door. For a heart stopping second could swear he heard an exhalation of breath and the strain of the door against its frame.

He sat up in a panic, scrambling to his feet but he wasn't sure where to go. He clutched at the bedpost, his nails digging into the wood.

"Enjolras?" Grantaire asked, scaring him so badly he let out a strained yelp.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I Just- I-" he babbled.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing. Nothing, It's fine. Just go back to sleep."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

He wasn't.

For a moment he was unable to respond, the words stuck in his throat. "I just- I know it's a twin but can we share?"

"What?"

"The bed, can we share?"

"Uh, sure if you really want to. Or I can sleep on the floor-"

"No. I mean, if that's what you want but I'd rather..." he trailed off.

He couldn't read Grantaire in the darkness, but he rolled out and let the frightened blond take the side against the wall and Enjolras wasn't about to question him.

"Thank you," Enjolras said laying down and feeling slightly better with another person so close by.

"The things I do for you, Apollo." Grantaire sighed, sliding in beside him and throwing the covers over both of them.

"I'm sorry."

Grantaire laughed, "Don't be... Do you want to talk about it?"

"No- I'll tell you in the morning, when my head is clear. Just go to sleep."

Neither of them fell asleep particularly quickly. Enjolras could still fell whatever it was behind the door pacing and trying to peak in. At one point after Grantaire had dropped off, he could swear he actually heard footsteps in the hall. It had shaken him so badly that he grabbed Grantaire's arm, desperate for something to ground him, the other man hadn't even stirred and Enjolras didn't let go.

Eventually he managed to slip into an uneasy sleep his, mind swirling with paranoid dreams that he didn't remember when he woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would read a fic where E was an maniacal arsonist, it would be gorgeous.
> 
> I'm also not eloquent enough to rant about the state of Appalachian children but ive got some things to say. As an aside, I say apple-a-shin and i dont care if it's right or wrong, apple-aa-chin just feels viscerally not right to me
> 
> And I realize that it's very against R's character to give him a death wish but I love to imagine him living a "fuck you, death, catch me if you can" sort of life.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks :-)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> E thinks he's losing it, R tries to keep him together, and the power goes out.

When Enjorlas opened his eyes, he could tell it was well into morning. It took a moment to shake off the uneasy vestiges of sleep and remember where he was. He turned his head toward the ceiling and felt something brush his hair. He looked back and realized he had been sleeping with his head on Grantaire's shoulder. He was also latched to his arm, pinning him in place. Grantaire was already awake and playing sudoku on his phone with his free arm. He had paused as Enjolras started moving.

"Morning," he said with a slightly sardonic smile.

"Sorry," Enjolras mumbled, realizing that he was just blankly staring and released the arm.

"No problem. I thought I should let you sleep after last night." He lifted his arm, clenching his hand and presumably trying to get rid of pins and needles.

"Yeah, I'm really, really sorry." he repeated, rolling onto his back and out of Grantaire's personal space as much as he could manage in the small bed, hands rubbing his still tired eyes. "I don't know what happened."

"Don't worry about it, Apollo, you can tell me about it while I make omelets." He gave the blond a lingering glance That Enjolras wasnt sure what to make of before he threw back the covers and slipped out of the bed.

Enjolars nodded his agreement, though mostly to encourage himself. He very much didn't want to talk about it. He swore softly as he ran a hand through his hair. He felt awful on a physical and mental front, like the events of last night where a tangible weight trying to compress him into nothing.

Grantaire, noticing his inner anguish, stepped back toward the bed, leaning with one arm on the bedpost. "You can go back to sleep if you want. I'll bring you breakfast in bed."

"No, I'm awake now. There's no going back." He forced himself up, though he really wanted to continue to lay there. He didn't want to go back to sleep, he couldn't remember what he had been dreaming about, but he woke up feeling unsettled. Now at least he felt almost normal. He should have pretended to stay asleep, not that it probably would have worked with him leaning so heavily against Grantaire.

He left the room and headed across the hall to retrieve his clothes and phone from his own room. Standing in the hallway, the room looked perfectly inoffensive. He steeled himself and walked inside. With a sense of inexplicable urgency, he opened his suitcase and searched for a new pair of clothes. As he searched he fumbled with increasing uneasiness, the blood was rushing in his head and his was throat constricting. When he could stand it no longer, he fled the room with whatever he had in hand and changed in the bathroom. 

After changing clothes, he stood for a moment looking at his reflection. He looked more worn down than he than in a long while, probably not since he'd had pneumonia his freshman year of high school and he had lost fifteen pounds that he could not afford to lose. Now he looked sickly pale with fright, and there were well defined shadows beneath his bloodshot eyes.

Taking a steadying breath, he exited the bathroom and flung his clothes back into the room rather than go back in himself.

When he descended the stairs, he spared a glance out the windows ahead. They had at least three inches of snow. The field in front of the house was a seemingly endless expanse of sparkling white, while the sky above remained gloomy, threatening more snow. Enjolras felt his heart sink, he had a feeling they wouldn't be seeing their friends today.

Grantaire was cracking eggs when he walked into the kitchen. Enjolras leaned back against the counter beside him, arms crossed and glaring at the floor.

"So, what happened?" Grantaire asked when it became apparent the he wasn't about to initiate a dialogue. "I'd draw out a meandering conversation, but I feel like you want to get this out of the way."

He would rather not have this conversation at all. "I woke up and couldn't breathe." He hadn’t intended to start there, but those were the words that came out of his mouth first.

Grantaire looked instantly alarmed, "Like a sleep apnea thing? Has that happened before?"

"I have a vague memory from when I was little, but I'm not sure it really happened. Other than that, no. Well, it happened yesterday too."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"I thought it was an anomaly," he shook his head, "When it woke me up last night I just felt like I had to get out of the room."

"It seemed like a little more than that, you didn't want me to go back in there either," Grantaire pointed out.

Enjolras averted his eyes and let the silence draw out until he could stand it no longer. "It's stupid," he huffed.

"I promise I won’t laugh," there was sincerity in his voice.

"I just mean I'm being irrational. When I'm in that room something feels off."

"Off how?"

"The air feels heavy and it's hard to breathe and... I don't know. It's the strangest thing I have ever experienced."

"Is it every time you go in there?"

"I think it's getting worse. It wasn't like that when we first got here, I'm probably just stressing myself out thinking about it."

"So, you had to get out because you woke up and being in the room overwhelmed you?"

"I think so."

"So, what freaked you out when you were in _my_ room?"

"I-" he scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration. Grantaire had stopped what he was doing and was patiently waiting. He took a breath. "So, when I woke up, I wasn't just overwhelmed. I felt like- This is ridiculous, but I felt like something wanted me out of the room. I was too scared to move, but then it was like I blinked and suddenly I was running to your room. That's why I didn't want you to go back in there."

"Because you thought whatever wanted you out would be unhappy with someone coming back in," he clarified in an indefinable tone.

"See, it sounds so stupid."

"And freaking out in my room?"

"Nearly the entire time I was in your room I felt like something was out in the hall, I swear I heard footsteps."

"What do you think it was?"

"No idea, but it was like I could see it trying to look under the door at me, so I… Panicked." Grantaire was giving him a searching look that he had a difficult time holding. "So, what do you think?"

"I think... I think you believe what you're saying and I'm not sure how worried I should be," Grantaire was obviously trying his very best to restrain himself, "Either we really are currently staying in an actual haunted house, which is alarming and a little exciting, or something about this place is driving you out of your right mind and that is troubling for a lot of reasons."

Enjolras felt cold in the pit of his stomach. He sank to the floor resting his head on his knees. Grantaire followed him down, kneeling at his side, hand rubbing soothing circles in his back. "Talk to me, E. I know I may be the worst person to go through this with, but I want to know what's happening."

"Nothing, I'm fine," he said with a heavy sigh, "I just wish we could get out of here." Silly though it made him feel, thinking about last night made him feel nauseous and he would rather sleep in the woods than spend another night in that room. 

"I think it might be a while before we can make our escape. There's no way we're getting out of the driveway without four-wheel drive and I tried to call Courf when I came down, but the phone lines are out. So is the cable. I think we're probably lucky to still have power."

"So, we're trapped until the snow melts enough to get the car out of the driveway."

"Yeah."

"Great."

"In the meantime, do you think you can tell me when something weird is happening? If anything does happen." He could tell from the tone of voice that Grantaire didn't actually think he was seeing anything supernatural and, to be honest, neither did he. It seemed far more likely that he was having some sort of break with reality, terrifying though it was to consider.

"Yeah, sure. If I lose it in here then at least you'll have some half decent ghost stories to tell."

"I don't think they'll be as fun knowing they drove you nuts."

"Are you sure? I think that gives a good ghost story more character. I'm sure _Jehan_ would cherish my mad ghost stories when they send me away," he said lightly

" _I'm_ sure Jehan would want you to see a doctor to make sure you didn't have a tumor or something."

"I suppose you're right."

"Of course, I am. I'm always right." 

"You are never right." 

"That, my dear friend, Is where you're wrong. I am constantly right, you just refuse to listen to me. But, it's your loss if you cannot stand my universal truths."

"You once said that cows were placed on this earth to monitor the people on the behalf of aliens."

"And they are! Just because you can’t handle it doesn't make it untrue."

Enjolras rolled his eyes and Grantaire grinned at him, ruffling his hair before he stood up and continued making omelets as the blond continued sitting on the floor, head tipped against the cabinets behind him. He could tell Grantaire was digesting what he'd just been told because he wasn't babbling as the cooked. It was a little disconcerting and did nothing to make him feel better.

"Okay, I think I have my theory," Grantaire announced as they brought their plates to the cluttered table.

"Let's hear it then," Enjolras grumbled, poking at his omelet.

"I think that you are experiencing some wild symptoms of exhaustion."

"Okay?"

"You have been going nonstop for the past week, getting little to no sleep and then you go to an allegedly haunted house in combination with all the horror stories and ghost talk Jehan has been spouting, it's leaked into your head. So now you're experiencing some mild auditory hallucinations and freaking yourself out."

Enjolars mulled this over. It didn't seem too far outside the realm of possibility, at least it was more reasonable than the sudden existence of ghosts. "You may perhaps be onto something."

"Exactly, I know you better than you do. You should still tell me when you see or hear things though, if nothing else so I can tell you they aren't there. Also, you should probably take a nap at some point today because it seems unlikely you'll sleep through the night."

Enjolras couldn't resist the impulse to turn up his nose at that. He detested naps.

"No arguing, you'll feel better if you do it."

"I know, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. What should we do with the rest of our day then? Since we are trapped here."

"I think we should get out of the house for a little while. We can try to find some snow suits in the garbage."

"What?"

"Freudian slip, I mean garage."

And they did exactly that. When they pushed open the interior door to the garage there were a row of heavy coats and snow overalls, though they were somewhat coated with long dried mud. The garage itself was only large enough for one car, which was actually still there buried in assorted trash and looking incapable of life. Garbage indeed.

The snow clothes were not the best fitting, but they did the job and Grantaire found a couple sleds beneath a tarp. They also found what appeared to be emergency power outage supplies near the door which Enjolras placed on the doorstep in case they were in need of them later.

Outside everything was covered in snow and ice. The wetness of the rainy days before had encapsulated every natural surface in a glacial coat.  While they had been eating the snow had begun to fall again in heavy flakes. The combined look made the outside world seem somehow soft and quiet, though that quiet was disturbed as soon as Grantaire was out the front door. He took off around the side of the house toward the hill, sled in hand.

"Race you to the bottom!" he shouted as he threw himself forward, the sled in his outstretched arms, landing on his belly and taking off down the hill.

Enjolars immediately ran after him, taking a leaping start onto the sled and carefully landing on his knees. He was close enough that he grabbed the tail end of Grantaire's sled and yanked him back, attempting to eliminate his head start.

"You dirty cheat!" Grantaire gasped, turning onto his back as he tried to push Enjolras off.

"There are no rules in sled racing," he held fast. They were veering off course and heading toward a tree. It would be alarming if they weren’t moving so slowly at this point. They had moved into an area where the grass was evidently higher and the lack of previous sledding had allowed friction to halt them.

“I am slightly closer to the bottom of the hill; therefore, I am the winner,” Grantaire decided, turning out of his sled and into the snow. “besides, you cheated.”

“You got a head start. I countered your cheat with a cheat of my own. It was only fair.”

“Fine, let’s have a rematch then. I can beat you without cheating.”

“I’ll race you to the top.”

They started running up the hill, Grantaire taking the lead. He would have won, but Enjolras realized this halfway up and tackled him. It took Grantaire a moment to understand what had happened, by which time Enjolras had already started running. When he reached the top, he turned to gloat and Grantaire tackled him. He fell back with a soft “Oof.”, the snow cushioning his fall.

Grantaire was half laying on top of him, frowning with mock hurt. “That is the second time in less than five minutes that you’ve cheated in a race of good will. My world has been shaken, how will I ever trust you again?”

“I’m just doing what I must to get ahead,” Enjolras grinned, dumping a handful of snow onto Grantaire’s beanie adorned head, which was then shaken off into the blonde’s face. As he brushed the snow away with a laugh, there was an awkward moment where he caught Grantaire’s gaze and held it. And there they were, just grinning at each other like idiots.

“You know, I think we should have been trapped in a haunted house together a long time ago,” Enjolras said and he meant it.

Grantaire stood up and offered a hand, which was taken. “You sure? I’m positive a few more days of this and you’ll be desperate to get rid of me.”

“I doubt that. I would lose my mind completely if I were stuck here alone.”

“Shit, I just realized. If you hadn’t come with me at the last moment, I would have been stuck here all alone for days. That would have been awful. Credit to you, you do a better job dealing with me than I do. If I were trapped in a house with myself I’m not sure what you’d come back to.”

“Are we talking a cloning situation or an internal struggled.”

“I can assure you, if two clones of me went into this house only one would come out.”

“Really? I would team up with my clone. We could get so much more done.”

“My god, the world could not handle two of you. It would shake to pieces in the presence of all that righteous fury.”

“I’ll show you righteous fury.”

“You don’t have to, I’m looking at it right now. Have I mentioned how terrifying you are? Like some sort of furious archangel.”

“We should make snow angels.” Enjolras mused, mostly out of word association.

“We sort of already did,” He pointed to the place where they had just been laying. There was Enjolras’ general shape and the erratic movements of his arms had fanned away some snow. The print Grantaire made gave the impression that the angel had a deformed body. It was a decidedly ill formed image. “It’s our child.”

“It’s a monster.”

“How dare you.”

Enjolras ignored him, stepping over to an undisturbed patch of snow, falling back and making a proper snow angel. “There, now it has a friend.”

Grantaire frowned, walking over and laying down too close to Enjolras snow angel and making his own so that they were connected at the wing. “Another mutant friend so it doesn’t feel self-conscious.

After a few more moments of pointless bickering where Enjolras made a number of perfect snow angels and Grantaire found various ways to corrupt them, the two remembered that they had come up the hill in order to race down, which they did, both again cheating. They spent a good long while smoothing out the hill as the snow continued to fall, that is, until Grantaire noticed that there was a tire swing tied to one of the trees at the forest edge. The tire was tied to an outrageously long rope, which in combination with the slope of the hill, appeared to swing very very high. It had remained unnoticed until that time because it was on the side of the tree facing the woods rather than the house.

"Come on, I'll push you, Grantaire said running toward the swing.

Enjolars ran after him and hopped on, standing in the inner lip of the tire and clinging to the rope as Grantaire pulled him back. When he let go Enjolars felt the cold air stinging his face. He was soring ridiculously quickly and he could see for miles. He laughed with sudden glee, as he looked out over the valley. He felt like a little kid and Grantaire laughed at his obvious delight, giving the swing a hard push as he swung back.

“Is it weird that I feel like a pirate?” he called down as he reached the peak of the swing.

“I can understand that. I can’t see you as a pirate though, what would you plunder for?”

“I would be a rogue! I would attack slave baring ships and rescue all the would-be slaves, delivering them safely back home.”

“That I could see. Please tell me that in this fantasy you have an eyepatch and a talking parrot.”

“I- “ he broke off. He had been coming up for what must have been the tenth or so time, looking far out over the woods when he saw red staining the snow in the valley. He was swinging back again before he could truly see what it was, adrenaline surging through his veins. When he swung back again there was nothing but an empty snow canvas.

As the rope fell back again Grantaire grabbed it and slowed him to a stop. “Alright there, Apollo?” he asked as Enjolras hopped off.

"Yeah, it’s nothing, I just thought I saw something."

"What did you see?"

"I'm not really sure. By the time I came back around there was nothing there." He felt decidedly unnerved and had a strong desire not to think about whatever it was he had seen.

Grantaire gave him a searching look. "Maybe we should go back inside."

"Maybe we should.”

* * *

They removed their snow suits out on the porch and carried them inside with the intention of placing them in the garage but when Enjolras flipped the garage lights nothing happened. He set the clothes on a cardboard box and attempted to turn the kitchen lights on. Nothing. The power was out.

"Well, shit. Looks like we'll have to figure out that generator," Grantaire huffed, tossing his clothes onto the garage floor.

"I know how to work the one at my parents’." Enjolras offered.

"Well then, you're a step ahead of me. Let's see if there are some flashlights in this box." he pulled up the box they had found earlier and opened it. Inside there was a crank radio, a random selection of flashlights, matches, two sets of walkie talkies, and an assortment of candles. Four of the seven flashlights were out of battery.

"Let's go, I'll be your light." Grantaire flipped on the brightest flashlight of the lot as they descended into the basement. It wasn't a particularly pleasant place with uncovered metal pillars, concrete floors and a good deal of clutter. It was the second messiest room they’d found thus far, second only to the garage.  The generator was in a side room under the stairs and when they opened the door a musty death smell hit them like a wave.

Grantaire lowered his light upon a dead mouse snapped up in a mouse trap. "RIP, my little dude," he said mournfully.

"I suppose we should remove it if we're going to keep coming down here." Enjolras sighed.  

"I'll get it," Grantaire said, handing over his flashlight and grabbing a plastic bag from a nearby pile of junk. He picked up the mouse with the bag and coughed at the smell. "Think you can handle this?"

"Yeah, I've got it," Enjolras waved him off. Once Grantaire left he managed to quickly get the generator started, electing to keep on the water, and kitchen appliances. They could turn up the propane fireplace upstairs for warmth, as long as it had fuel.

Once he'd finished, he closed the door and stepped back out of the little room. As he made his way through the darkness, he felt a creeping unease slither over his skin and as he rounded on the stairs, he gave into the urge to sprint up the steps. He slammed the door behind him, determined not to look down into the darkness below. Not that he thought there was anything down there. Because there was obviously nothing. His mind was just playing tricks on him. He was exhausted and imagining things. Nothing to be afraid of.

When he turned, Grantaire had apparently just started up the fireplace and was staring at him, one eyebrow raised. "This place is making you so jumpy."

"Shut up, you should be more sympathetic. I'm being psychologically tormented."

"I know, but it's just so rare to see you shaken. It's weird. Probably shouldn’t have let you alone in the spooky basement. How are you feeling anyway?"

"Like my head is being squeezed through a tube."

"Maybe you should take a nap."

"Maybe I should," he agreed reluctantly.

“We should eat lunch first though.”

“Right.”

He wasn’t very hungry but the ate the sandwich Grantaire made him anyway.

"Where do you want to sleep?” Grantaire asked him once they had finished eating, “On the couch or in Gavroche's room? Upstairs you can pull the blinds."

"Yeah, I'll try my luck up there."

Grantaire followed him upstairs, lingering as they passed the girls’ room and stepping up to the doorway rather than continuing down the hall. Enjolras watched as he stepped inside, looking around as if waiting for something to happen. The blond took a deep breath and followed him past the doorframe.

The air felt heavy, but not constricting as it had that morning.

"It's a little stuffy, but I don’t think it's inordinately stuffy." Grantaire mused as Enjolars had begun packing up his things into his suitcase.

"I'm not sleeping in here tonight."

"What about right now? It seems okay to me."

He paused. "I suppose it does."

"I'll stay in here with you. I'll sleep in the other bed. You should probably have someone nearby anyway if you're having breathing trouble."

Enjolras paused, mulling this suggestion over. "Fine," he agreed, standing up and drawing the blinds.

“Don’t look so stressed, Apollo, I promise to protect you from any ghastly ghouls.”

“My hero,” Enjolras grumbled at Grantaire laid down in the bed across the room.

“I’m serious, breathe, you’re fine.”

“Right.” He laid back and tried to relax, listening to Grantaire’s breathing as a tether. The brunette’s breathing quickly evened out. Enjolras found himself jealous of the ability to instantly find sleep. His eyes wandered in the muted room. He was feeling sufficiently more comfortable than he had since they first visited the room, but not without any uneasiness. Shaking himself, he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for sleep to take him. It did not take long, running around all morning had exhausted him.

* * *

When he slipped into the land of sleep he dreamed something was after him.

He was tearing through the house. This house. The house they were staying in. He wasn’t sure what would happen when he was caught, but he was running as fast as he could, lungs burning and limbs aching. But he could feel whatever it was at his back, pursuing until he was at last cornered. He wasn’t sure what room he was in, the terror had blinded him to his surroundings, and then it was strangling the life out of him. He gasped and choked against the seemingly invisible force as he felt the dream bridging with reality. He woke with a heavy gasp coughing as he inhaled too quickly. His stomach lurched and for a second the thought he might gag. He placed a hand to his burning throat and sat up, his eyes combing the room. Grantaire was sleeping peacefully in the next bed, oblivious to the sound he had been making.

He laid back down, staring at the ceiling. The room felt dead calm or maybe he was too drained to be scared. He felt as though he had spent far too long in a hot tub and all his energy had been sucked away. He must have fallen back asleep because the next think he knew, he was waking up to a dimly lit room. Grantaire was sitting up in the next bed drawing and looked over when he heard Enjolras shift.

“I told you, it would be fine,” Grantaire grinned under the glowing luminescence of a flashlight.

“How-“ he broke off, coughing. His voice had come out rough.

“Alright there?”

“Yeah, my throat just-” his coughed again.

“Was it hurting earlier?”

“No, not at all.” He brought a hand to his raw throat.

“Weird.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“About three hours. That’s pretty good, I’d say. For someone who hates naps.”

Enjolras ignored that and opened the blinds, letting the low light shine in. The sky was still a heavy gray with only a tiny powdering of snow drifting down to the earth. He heard Grantaire gasp across the room and turned, startled.

“What happened to your neck?” he demaned.

“What!?”

“You have bruises on your neck.”

“I do?”

“It looks like someone was choking you.”

Enjolras grabbed his phone and switched on the camera as Grantaire shone a flashlight on him. Sure enough, there were distinct bruises ringing his neck looking very much like fingerprints.

“How-? I remember having a dream that I was being strangled but…”

“Could it have been you?”

“What?”

“Do the finger prints fit your hand?”

He tested his hands against this throat and found that they fit. “What the actual fuck?”

“Agreed. I don’t even know what to say to that. Have you ever been known to sleep walk or anything?”

“Not that I know of.” He shook his head.

“You said you had a dream someone was strangling you?”

“Yeah, I think I was running through the house and something was chasing me. When it caught me…”

“It tried to strangle the life out of you? Are the ghosts are trying to tell you something?”

“No. It was just a dream and that wouldn’t make sense in the context of the murder.”

“Not if Floreal was being domestically abused.”

He felt a rush of irritation at Grantaire for humoring this insane situation. “Look, can we just not talk about this now? I just want to ignore all of it for a little while.”

Grantaire opened his mouth like he was going to protest but thought better of it. “If that’s what you want.”

* * *

When they went downstairs Grantaire cranked up the radio and riddled with the channel until he got to a weather report. According to the announcer, they were on a level 3 snow emergency, the roads were off limits to any non-emergency personnel. In the next few days it seemed that there would be a lull in the snowfall but whether or not the existing snow would melt seemed undetermined.

The two hung around in the kitchen for a while, not talking about what happened upstairs. Enjolras trying to get some work done on his computer and Grantaire messing with the radio because all he seemed to find was a whole lot of country stations. 

Sometime later, Grantaire made ravioli for dinner. Because of the lack of light, they lit at least half a dozen candles so that they could see where they were. They sat together at the table under the soft lighting.

"Well, Apollo,” Grantaire said teasingly, “when I found out you were coming here with me I did not think we would get the opportunity to share a candle lit dinner."

Enjolras snorted, "I don't think I've ever had a non-power outage induced candle lit dinner."

"I don't find that hard to believe. You should live life a little more romantically, you heartless robot."

"I feel more like we're about to have a séance with a setting like this."

"You could have a romantic séance. Summon the spirit of a musician or poet to set the mood."

"That seems a bit far to go when you could just find someone living to do the job."

"Well, love is about taking that extra step. Though you might appreciate something a little different than your classic romantic gesture."

"Classic like summoning spirits to set the mood?"

"As I said, classic. No, you would probably like it more if we summoned a historical figure for you to shout at, like one of the founding fathers or Napoleon Bonaparte."

"I cannot lie, I would enjoy that immensely."

"I know you would."

"I think it might derail a date though."

"Perhaps, but it would make you happy and that would kind of be the point."

"Who would you want to summon?"

"Oh, I don't know. I've always wanted to punch Claud Monet in the face. I want to bring him here, punch him and send him straight back. I think it would be hilarious."

"What has he done to offend you?"

"Nothing, it's just something that I’ve always wanted to do. It just feel right, you know?"

"This date would have a lot of aggressive energy."

"It sounds awesome. Although," he laughed, "It seems a bit of a power move to go on a date with strangulation marks on your throat. There are a lot of ways that could be interpreted, some more sinister than others." He winced as the words came out, apparently unsure if they were still not supposed to be talking about it.

Enjolras sighed, "Hopefully, they're gone by the time we see everyone. I don't know what they'll think."

"Either that _I_ tried to murder you or that _you're_ a little kinky."

"I think I would just like to avoid this situation."

"Fair enough."

* * *

They tried to watch another movie on Grantaire's laptop, which Enjolras could barely stay awake for despite the earlier nap.

Grantaire nudged him awake as he drifted, "I think it's time for bed, Apollo."

Enjorlas sighed. "I'm just going to sleep on the couch. I'm not going back into that room."

"I told you we can switch if you want."

"No."

"But-"

"Grantaire, please promise me you won’t go back in there."

"Fine, I promise." he said, rolling his eyes. Giving the impression he would just ignore his word.

Enjolars reached over and grabbed him by the face, forcing him to make eye contact. He looked stunned. "No, listen. Actually promise."

"Alright, alright. Your wish is my command. What do you think would happen if I stayed in there?"

"I don't know. Something bad."

"And you’re sure you want to stay down here?"

"I thought it was probably more convenient than forcing you to share again."

"Ah, you know me. I never mind sharing my bed."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "I'm staying here, off with you."

"But should you really be sleeping alone? You tried to strangle yourself in your sleep earlier."

"You were there and you didn't even wake up. If it makes you feel better, we could tie my hands together."

"If everyone shows up and you have bruises on your throat and ligature marks on your wrists, some questions will definitely be asked."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "What's the worst I can do? If I strangle myself I'll pass out if it goes too far."

"Yeah but it can't be good for your throat."

"I don't care, I'm staying down here. Hopefully, I'll be able to sleep."

"Fine. Hang on." he ducked into the kitchen and pulled out a pair of walkie talkies. "I'll leave one with you. You know, just in case you get scared. And I will come down to check on you at some point."

"Fuck off," he groaned.

"I'm serious."

"You wouldn't even hear a walkie talkie go off, you sleep like the dead."

"I'll turn it all the way up and sleep with it next to my head."

"Fine, fine, whatever, good night."

"Night."

The couch was slightly uncomfortable and the room was a little too warm with the fire, but he felt more at ease than he would have done upstairs. He listened to Grantaire find his room, and it was his room that he entered, just above Enjolras' head before he could relax.

He could feel sleep weighing at him and he allowed himself to be dragged under, feeling more optimistic about his prospects of sleeping through the night.

* * *

He dreamed that he was cold and couldn't move.

A downpour of rainwater was trickling down his throat by means of his gaping mouth. He was distantly aware that he was being carried through the woods, the dark looming form of trees passing before his eyes, but he wasn’t seeing them. His gaze was fixed and unfocused, tilted toward the dark sky. The voyage seemed to last a thousand years, each footstep offering a wet shuffle of leaves and a mounting sense of dread. And then the motion stopped before he was dropping to the ground, strands of hair falling into his mouth as his head was knocked against the earth. Rain was continuing to fall, and he was so so cold. He couldn’t see past the curtain of dark hair to understand what was happening. After another eternity his body gave a sudden jerk as if hit by some unseen force and he was falling falling falling into the ground, mud was seeping into his mouth and down his throat-

He woke to a sudden loud sound that he wasn't awake enough to process. He was too busy trying not to throw up.

His head was swimming, he was drenched in sweat and freezing cold despite the fire. But he didn’t feel the same panic as he had waking up the night before, just unsettled and disoriented. He leaned back and took a breath, trying to focus on the humming of the generator as a source of comfort.

He thought of the dream, the details of which were already slipping away from him and of the sound that woke him up. His instant response was that it sounded like a gunshot and it sounded close, but was it part of the dream? Had his brain startled him awake or was someone out with a gun in the woods in the middle of the night? The latter idea didn't seem as farfetched as it should be out here in the middle of nowhere. Hopefully it wasn't someone after Éponine's parents, he didn't very much want to be murdered in a case of mistaken identity.

He paused when he heard scuffling. For a moment he couldn't place its origin and thought it was just mice in the walls, but after a moment he heard it again and his blood turned to ice. It sounded like someone was walking around in the basement.

It started slowly at first with the shuffle of clutter before coming around to the foot of the stairs where there was a pause. Enjolras could not breathe before pounding steps came racing upward. He fully expected someone to come charging through the door, but when they reached the top there was a furious rattling at the doorknob, as if it was locked. It wasn't, there was a lock on the door but there wasn't an exit through the basement so there wasn't any point in locking it. And more importantly it locked from the inside.

When the rattling stopped Enjolars stared at it for a very long time. The generator was still vibrating but it seemed as though he could hear forever. When the knob slowly started to turn Enjolras remember the walkie talkie.

"Grantaire!" he said in a hushed whisper. His voice sounded very unlike his own. The knob was a quarter turned. "Fuck."

Somewhere in the back of his head he heard a sound from upstairs and a few moments later Grantaire had appeared looking alarmed. He made such a clatter coming down the steps that Enjolras broke eye contact with the door.

When his eyes returned the knob had settled back into its original position.

"Are you alright?" Grantaire asked, "Shit, I got up too fast." he placed his hands on his legs for support.

"I thought I heard someone downstairs." he said dumbly.

"Like actually someone?"

"I don't know. I heard footsteps and I thought I saw the knob turn but...

Grantaire gave the basement a wary look.

"I don’t think anyone could have gotten in," he said to himself, "but... Hang on." he walked around and Enjolras heard the garage door open as he was left staring at the basement door. He stood shakily, ready to run should it burst open.

Seconds later, Grantaire returned with two golf clubs and one of the large flashlights. He handed one club to Enjolras. And prepared to open the door.

Enjolras couldn't find the words to object, but he felt sure as soon as that door opened something horrible would burst out. But when the door was flung aside, there was nothing. Nothing at all.

Grantaire climbed down the stairs, golf club ready. Enjolras following behind. But there truly was nothing. Not even the ominous feeling he felt earlier in the day. It was just a cluttered basement.

When they returned to the top of the stairs Enjorlas was suddenly exhausted. For a moment he worried that his legs wouldn't hold. He leaned against the wall for support, his brain going fuzzy.

"-you hear me?" Grantaire was talking.

"What?" he wiped his face with a shaking hand.

"Are you okay?"

He shook his head.

"Come on, we're going back upstairs." he took Enjolras hand and pulled him up the steps. When they reached the top, he could feel eyes on him from the room he refused to sleep in. Cold and curious. He imagined he could see the silhouette of a person in the doorway and he felt his heart give a stutter.

Grantaire pulled him into the room and forced him to sit on the bed, taking a place beside him. "Tell me how I can help," he sounded a little desperate, hand reaching out but unsure of what to do.

"I don’t know," he managed. His mouth hurt when he moved it and he realized he'd been clenching his jaw probably too tightly. "I just want to sleep." He really just wanted all this to be over.

"Okay, we can do that."

Enjolras crawled into bed, laying on his back as Grantaire propped himself up on his elbows beside him. "Do you need anything?"

He shook his head. "I just feel like I'm going crazy."

“I’m sure everything will be fine once we get out of here.” He didn’t sound sure.

“But what if it’s not?”

"You're going to be okay," Grantaire placed a hand on his shoulder, "This all started when we got here and as soon as the snow clears up we can get the fuck out and never ever look back. You’ll never even have to think about haunted houses ever again."

"Or maybe I'll be one of those shark bite victims and I'll fixate on ghosts in order to overcome my mental trauma."

"Then you and Jehan can become ghost hunters together." Grantaire smiled, tugging at one of Enjolras’ curls.

“We would make a grand group of paranormal investigators,” he admitted, turning over from his back to his side, looking up at Grantaire.

"Yes, you would. If anyone could solve the question: Are ghosts real?” His thought trailed off as Enjolras continued to stare, “What?"

"Nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing." He brushed the hair away from Enjolars' forehead and the blond leaned in to the touch. After a moment Grantaire pulled him closer. Enjolras pressed his face to Grantaire's chest, trying to stabilize his breathing and determined not to do something stupid like start crying as Grantaire combed through his hair. “Oh, come on, Apollo,” it came out a shaky chuckle, “You’re breaking my heart here. Everything is going to be fine, you’ll see. You’ll get out of here and go back to fomenting insurrection. This won’t even be a blip on your radar when you’re busy ruling the world.”

His tongue felt too heavy for a reply. All he could do was listen as Grantaire rambled sweet aphorisms, assuring him that everything was going to be okay and try to keep the fear at bay. Eventually the words fell away to only soothing circles rubbed into his skin, which also fell away as Grantaire was whisked off by sleep, though Enjolras remained secure in his arms. Human contact was a blessing, infinitely better than facing invisible fears alone.

Whatever it was in the hall was still out there, pacing, trying to peek through. Enjolras tried his best to block it out by covering his ears and leaning into Grantaire like he was trying to burrow into his chest.

The rest of that night he did not dream because he did not sleep, although he was devastatingly tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does a generator work? I don’t know, my parents didn’t have one, despite our terrible power lines. Im just going off what I half understood about my neighbor’s generator.
> 
> I now sort of realize how weird this story's tone is. Like there's lighthearted banter but the actual story is like way darker than I intended. Too late to go back now, im all in.
> 
> I think i like breaking E a little too much and giving R way too much like responsibility.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise as the plot thickens.

Morning crept slowly upon the house, bringing with it blissful silence as if the building had settled with the rising of the sun. For Enjolras the time had passed as though through molasses, every strange sound vibrating through the house sent his stomach into knots, but as light began to shine into the room he felt the tension relax a bit. Under solar influence, he was glad to let Grantaire sleep in until nine. Part of him was wishing to avoid talking to a rational person because he wanted to skip the discussion of his mental decline, but another part was enjoying his physical presence. It was... Reassuring. Something he wouldn't have dreamed of affording to Grantaire's presence before now.

The brunette was laying on his back, one arm around Enjolras who, again, had his cheek against his shoulder. He was quite warm, in stark contrast to the unheated room they were inhabiting. It made him feel deeply guilty for the fuss he’d made, waking him up in the middle of the night. It had seemed justifiable in the moment and even in retrospect he would have probably done the same thing. As he watched that doorknob turn he hadn’t ever experienced such gut wrenching, visceral terror. The soft skittering footsteps he’d been hearing in the hall all night made him immensely uneasy and halfway terrified but thinking about that basement, the fear felt malignant.

Oblivious to the blonde’s dark considerations, Grantaire stirred beside him, blinking in puzzlement as Enjolras looked up at him.

"Good morning, Apollo.” He looked like he didn't know quite what to do with himself. “This is the second day in a row I've woken up with you in my bed.”

Enjolras considered the bewilderment in his gaze and wondered how unsettled Grantaire had been waking up to see him yesterday. Perhaps he should have moved away in the night to make things less awkward. Although, he couldn’t bring himself to regret his choice not to.  

He ducked and let the other man take back his arm. "Sorry, you should probably get used to it. I'm not even going to try sleeping alone again." At this point he was a little afraid he might never sleep again.

"Oh no, whatever will I do." Grantaire scoffed, rolling his eyes in an arc that fell back upon Enjolras’ face and lingered there. "You look completely exhausted. How much sleep did you get?"

"None, so I've got one foot in another dimension."

"Sorry, what?"

"I'm so tired, I feel like my brain is trying to ascend to a higher plane of existence."

"Why the hell didn't you sleep?"

"I couldn't, I was too wound up."

"You _have_ to sleep. I promise it will make you feel less terrible."

"I honestly don’t think it will help."

"Well then it won’t hurt either. _Well_ , unless you go back to choking yourself in your sleep… So, it actually might hurt."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead of exhaustion."

" _You_ are going to be the death of _me_."

"Only if we can't get out of here."

"If we do get out of here it'll just be death by firing squad after you fail to conquer the world."

"Ye of little faith. When I conquer the world, you shall not benefit."

"Not even a little? Not even after I played comfort blanket last night?"

"Fine, I'll make you my royal cynic and you shall have no political power."

"Except that I would have your ear and that would give me a lot of political power, not that I would use it. However, I find myself surprised you would set up a monarchy rather than a republic."

"The republic was implied. You would be appointed to a special position."

"And I would accept whatever position you wanted me in." He grinned and Enjolras felt the overwhelming urge to shove him out of the bed.

XxxX

Grantaire made French toast for breakfast as Enjolras stared blankly out the window into the backyard. The crackling crank radio was delivering the weather report as Grantaire cooked. They hadn't received any more snow since yesterday. There were about six inches on the ground now, but it was supposed to be warmer today and they might even get some rain. That was perhaps hopeful for their getting out but level 3 emergency status was still in place and some areas were not predicted to get their power back on for another week or so after the roads were accessible again. So, the residents of the area were likely to be further inconvenienced.

Enjolras was distantly aware of this information as it traveled his way, but his mind was elsewhere. He felt as if he had left part of his brain back upstairs when he got out of bed. Mostly, he imagined, this was because of the fatigue. As he was doing things he felt more like he was watching from a distance in slow motion and he could feel his heartbeat reverberating through his body making him feel as though he were about to burst out of his skin and yet he sat stock still staring out the window, past their snowed over sled tracks and toward the tree line, like it was all he could do to keep from coming undone.

"Any plans for today?" Grantaire asked, dragging away Enjolras’ fixed gaze as he set a plate down in front of him.

"I want to go outside again,” Enjolras was surprised to hear himself say.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Anything in particular you want to do out there?"

He shrugged and went back to staring out the window.

"Quite loquacious today, aren't you. Where has that silver tongue of yours gone?"

"I don't have the...” he paused to consider his words, “Capacity for words right now. Too much energy."

"And yet you want to run around in the snow?"

He nodded, taking a bite of his French toast, which was really very good.

"Well, I can't say I understand your logic but I won’t stand in your way."

Enjolras hummed absently, watching as a bird swooped through the yard, drifting over the treetops and into the valley.

After breakfast they put on their snow suits and walked out the door. It was not quite as bitterly cold as it had been yesterday, though the sky still looked heavy and gray.

"Good packing snow." Grantaire noted as he picked up a clump from the porch railing, nibbling a little off the top. "Do you wanna build a snowman?"

"If you start singing, I'll punch you."

"Do you?"

"Fine."

"Alright, you start the middle part and I'll start the base."

They went across the yard rolling increasingly large snowballs, Grantaire whistling obnoxious show tunes as they worked just to be irritating. When the joined up Grantaire's snowball was about waist high and Enjolras' was thigh high. It took both of them to get Enjolras' on top. They lost part of the snowball in the process so the middle section looked a little short and fat by the end. It was apparent that they weren't going to be able to get an appropriately sized head that high, so they made two smaller heads and that did the job just fine. They dug around in the driveway for the rocky face and dragged over two large branches for the arms.

Their two headed snowman was a grotesque masterpiece.

Enjolras collapsed back into the snow at the snow giant’s feet, drained from the effort. As he watched the snow drift down he felt like he was traveling at warp speed. Like his body was racing ahead of him but his mind was stuck in place. It made his eyes sting. He turned his head away from the sky, toward the woods. He thought perhaps Grantaire was saying something to him but the words were not reaching. After a few seconds of disorientation, he stood up and started walking across the yard.

"Where are you going?" Grantaire called after him.

His response was automatic, coming forth seemingly without thought. "I bet the creek is frozen over."

"I like the way you think." Grantaire scurried up after him.

Straight back from the playset was the creek, which was frozen. It was only about two feet across and maybe six inches deep, shallow enough that a solid slab of ice concealed the still moving water below as it wound its way down into the valley.

"There are fish frozen in there!" Grantaire exclaimed upon arriving to the water, pointing to the minnows that were swimming against the feeble current underneath the icy cover.

Enjolras stepped hesitantly onto the ice, testing its strength. It held as he stepped over to the fish, tapping lightly at the ice above them. They flinched but otherwise did not move away.

"Don't do that, you'll stress them out," Grantaire hissed at him. "You wouldn’t like someone tapping in your face."

"I suppose not." Enjolras said as he pushed forward, sliding across the ice over the likely alarmed fish below.

"I can’t really imagine you as a fish," Grantaire said vaguely as he stepped onto the ice.

"I can't either?"

"You have more of a big cat vibe or maybe a snake." He slid forward toward Enjolras, who continued to slip his way along the creek.

"You have a raccoon vibe."

"Just because you’ve seen me going through the trash like an animal does not make me a raccoon,” Grantaire protested. Now that he thought about it, Enjolras had seen him going through the trash on multiple occasions, usually on behalf of other people. He had even seen him dumpster dive in search of Courfeyrac’s phone, which he had accidently thrown away in a drunken haze. After that Courf had owed him an eternal debt. He thought perhaps a lot of people were indebted to Grantaire, but that was beside the point.

"I like raccoons, they're clever and they have creepy little people hands. You have to admit, the connotations are better than those of being described as a snake."

"Maybe. I think I might be a scum sucking catfish though."

"Why?"

"They call to me."

"You hear the catfish siren’s song?" He got the sudden distinct impression that Grantaire often felt like a catfish trapped in a koi pond. "Well, if I had to be something aquatic I would want to be a big eel."

"Why?"

"The princess bride was my favorite movie when I was really little. I want to be a shrieking eel."

"Really? And here I thought you were mister no nonsense non-fiction."

"I usually am, but I just really like that movie and the satire and historical context of the book."

"I think you just identify as princess buttercup and you don’t want to admit it. The most beautiful and contrary lady in all the land."

"I sympathize with her plight as much as I do any other character. Perhaps not so much in the love story area."

“You mean the main reason for her motivations?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re just jealous you don’t have a handsome outlaw pirate cheating death for you.”

“Shut up.” There wasn’t any point in arguing with him, he was only likely to tease further.

"As you wish."

The creek had led them to a steeper drop off where the water pooled in a more open area over a stony outcrop before sloping down the hill in a slightly pathetic waterfall and continuing into the valley.

Enjorlas did not hesitate to slide down the waterfall on his butt, Grantaire right behind him. They were forced to stop just at the bottom because a fallen tree obscured the path ahead, so they clambered out of the creek and into the clearing.

"This would be the perfect place to make a massive snow fort,” Grantaire sighed as he spun in a dramatic twirl, “Can you imagine the snow fort we could make if everyone was here?"

"If we could get everyone to cooperate,” Enjolras amended, “I can just see it dissolving into a snowball fight in two seconds."

"That's where you come in, dear leader. You unite the people for a noble purpose."

"And what’s so noble about building a snow fort?"

"Just imagine it's a barricade holding back the forces of evil." He waved a dismissive hand.

"And would you help us build the barricade?"

"Nope. I would laze about and watch you all work. I might even play the villain if I felt so inclined. Attempt to break down the walls as I'm pelted with snowballs."

"You would never take us alive."

"So you say, but my goal would absolutely be to capture the princess."

"Dare I ask who that would be?" he asked inattentively, more absorbed in wandering around the valley.

"That would be the warrior princess who called upon the most noble knights in all the kingdom to build up an army and was answered by a gang of dorky misfits." He gave the blond a pointed look.

"Well, I suppose as long as I'm a warrior princess with political and military power, I don't mind so much. You still wouldn’t take me alive."

"Then I would die trying."

"I didn’t think you would willingly die for anything other than to spite someone." He had expressed the desire to suffer a spiteful death on multiple occasions, usually when someone had wronged him.

"Not for just anything, some things I would consider dying for."

“Like wha-?” Enjolras startled as a snowball hit him in the back of the head. "Hey!" he shouted although Grantaire was already running off laughing.

Enjolras scooped up a handful of snow and ran after him. They spent some time ducking behind trees and hurling snowballs back and forth. Annoyingly, Grantaire had better aim than he did.

Soon Enjolras found himself standing at the upper left side of the clearing, shaking snow out of his coat. Grantaire had managed to hit him in just the perfect place that a glob of snow fell down the back of his neck then hit the branches above him to start a tiny snow smoke screen which he used to duck out of sight.

For a moment Enjolras stood still, ears and eyes straining for any tiny sound or movement that would give away Grantaire’s position, but all he could hear was the eerie creaking of the trees. Seconds later, he saw movement to his right out of the corner of his eye, a shadow of motion behind the snow laden evergreens, and he stealthily stepped back past the tree line, electing to take an indirect rout, three snowballs worth of ammunition in hand.

He ducked below the glittering, ice coated branches of a pine tree and came out alongside a fork off the main creek. The area was sheltered by a ring of needle heavy trees and the snow was not so deep. He hastily glanced about, waiting for a sneak attack that never came, the area appeared empty though he couldn’t shake a decidedly watched feeling.

Cautiously, he followed the creek a few steps around the bend and was puzzled to see upturned earth ahead of him. Walking closer he could see that the frozen ground had been torn into frozen chunks of earth strewn across the ice. Nervously, his mind immediately turned to bears, despite it being winter, then to mountain lions, coyotes, and other large animals that might have been tearing into the ground.

He stepped closer and peered down into a good-sized hole, about two feet in diameter. If he stepped into it, it may have gone up to just above his knee at the lowest point. Inside all he saw was dirt. It looked somewhat wet as whatever had been digging here had nicked into the creek and flooded the bottom. The fact that it was still wet and unfrozen indicated whatever had done this hadn’t been gone long. There were groove marks along the sides of the hole where scoops of earth had been taken, but no footprints in the snow that he could see. Whatever it was must have been walking along on the ice.

He wasn’t sure what compelled him and later could not remember having moved, but he found himself kneeling down, scraping away at the deepest part of the indent. The soil came away soft and muddy, moisture soaking thickly into his gloves. He threw away the handful of earth and took a deeper scoop, this time feeling his hand brush something imbedded in the ground. It felt strangely solid but gave slightly at his pressure. Discarding this second hand, he spotted something shiny black below the soil.

He cleared away enough of the area to see that it was the plasticky coat of a trash bag. Without a moment’s hesitation he tore open a small hole in the bag. He felt the blood rushing in his ears and the rest of the world felt a million light years away. There was a clean set of human teeth grinning out at him. The bag ripped in his hand and he immediately used both hands to peel it back further to confirm what he was seeing. The teeth were in fact human, he could tell because they were still at home within their owner’s skull, discolored and strangely textured skin rolled up past the mouth in what now appeared more of a sneer than a smile.

He felt the earth tilt and he rocked back on his knees as if in an effort to balance himself against its imagined shift. He must have gasped because his lungs were suddenly filled with a putrid, earthy smell.

"There you are!"

Enjolras did not even startle, he felt as though a heavy and suffocating calm had descended over him. His head slowly turned to find Grantaire stepping through the trees.

“Enjolras, are you okay?”

Enjolras could not even imagine what sort of expression he was making, though he felt like he was watching this scene play out from a million miles outside of his body.

"What are you doing?" he sounded more cautiously alarmed than anything, so he probably hadn’t seen into the hole.

Enjolras blinked slowly. "I-" He looked at his muddy gloves and down at the half-uncovered face, which he had to assume was attached to the rest of a body, which he was probably kneeling on top of at that very moment. The idea made his stomach give a strange lurch.

Grantaire gave him a puzzled look and stepped around him, looking down upon the skull. "Fuck. Holy fuck."

Enjolras was looking at it too, he again found himself reaching back into the hole out of some twisted desire to see more. Too look closer and understand, but Grantaire grabbed him roughly by the back of his coat, dragging him to a halt. "What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded.

"I-" His eyes trailed up to Grantaire’s horrified face. What _was_ he doing? Rule number one of finding a body was don’t fucking touch anything. "I don’t know. I just...." He couldn't find the words.

"We are getting the fuck out of here right now." He grabbed Enjolras by the arm and hauled him onto his feet, dragging him back toward the house. As they walked Grantaire babbled the entire way but Enjolras didn’t hear a word of it over the ringing in his ears, to be fair, he didn't think Grantaire was hearing himself either.

They did not speak directly to each other until they were back inside, snow suits flung carelessly into the garage.

Enjolras felt very strange standing in the kitchen, staring out the window toward the place they had just fled, but it may just have been that the uncovering of a dead body in the backyard had so disrupted his world view that staying on the property now felt fundamentally wrong.

"Holy fuck you found a dead body." Grantaire ranted as he paced around the cluttered room. Enjolras was sitting heavily at the table and nodded dimly. "Why the fuck were you digging back there?"

"There was already a hole,” he said slowly, trying to understand himself, “I just poked around and found the trash bag so I ripped it."

"But why the hell did you start poking around?!"

"I... I don’t know, it just seemed weird so I thought.... I just did. I’m not really sure why."

"You-" Grantaire made an exacerbated motion, then clasped his shoulders and shook him lightly to the cadence of his every syllable. "You. make. Me. crazy."

Enjolras pushed the arms aside, trying to find his ground. "Obviously, we're going to have to call the police when we get out of here."

"Won't that just be the cherry on top of this disaster trip." Grantaire ran a hand over his face.

"I wonder why that area was dug up." He found himself suddenly able to vocalize his thoughts, some measure of stability taking hold of him.

"An animal was probably looking for the body," Grantaire reasoned.

"When the ground is half frozen and buried in snow? It’s not like it was newly buried, it has obviously been there a while. It just seems strange that only that area was uncovered."

"Well what are you trying to say? Do you think someone was back there trying to dig it back up and move it or something?"

"No, I didn’t see any footsteps around other than ours.” Unless someone really had walked along the creek to get there. He shook his head. “I don’t know what I'm saying, I just think it's strange is all. Don’t you?"

"I find this whole situation very fucking strange, I assure you."

"Who do you think it is?"

"It could be literally anyone. I bet that Mabuef guy was a serial killer. It's probably the body of his mother or another girl he murdered. " His voice came out slightly shrill.

"I doubt that."

"It seems pretty apparent to me. A murder-suicide ends the previous owner and another body turns up in the backyard. He was a fucking serial killer and that out there is another one of his victims. Something about Floreal must have pushed him over the edge and Éponine grew up in a murder house."

"I just find it improbable. What are the chances that he was a serial killer of all things? I'd wager pretty slim.”

"Well then, what do you think happened, Nancy Drew?"

"It seems more likely that maybe at some point someone shady overdosed in the house and they were buried rather than anyone calling the police or an ambulance."

"Or it could be an enemy of the Thénardier family."

“That seems a little dramatic. Do You really think her parents could be murderers?"

"Fuck if I know, but there's a dead body on their property, that doesn’t make me confident. Although, I still say it is from the previous owner."

"But it didn’t look that old," Enjolras protested.

"What are you, a forensic anthropologist? Do you spend a lot of time predicting the time of death for dead bodies?"

"No... I... That's just the impression I got. It still had a lot of intact skin and everything. I would think it would be more desiccated and eaten away at if it were over twenty some years dead."

Grantaire looked a little green. "I'd google what old corpses look like, but we don't have any fucking internet access and pictures might make me puke. I guess it doesn't matter anyway. Once we get the police over here we are fucking out. It’s their problem then."

"But I feel like we have a duty to find out what happened."

Grantaire groaned like he would rather do anything else in the world. " We have no such obligation but, sure. Okay. Fine. So, let’s pretend it wasn’t an old body because you apparently hate that idea."

"I don't hate it, I just think-"

Grantaire shushed him, “In that case it does seem most likely that maybe someone overdosed and was buried in the backyard. That's pretty fucked up, but maybe not that sinister, right? Or maybe there was a hunting accident. Or maybe a deal went bad and someone got iced. Maybe that's why the Thénardiers are gone right now, to escape the heat."

"Or maybe it's one of them. Maybe her mom killed her dad or something and ran off with Azelma.”

"I really fucking hope not. I do not want to go back and tell Éponine that we found the body of one of her family members buried in the backyard."

They both paused, mulling over the situation. "I really want to say we should split up and look for clues or something but I don’t think anything in this house would be useful and we might be putting our DNA onto future crime scene evidence."

"Why would the police give a shit if our fingers were all over stuff in here? It’s not like we're going to be suspects."

"I meant if in the future someone bashes another person over the head with a random household object or if something like that happened at some point and the evidence is still there. I get the feeling things like that are want to happen here.”

"Maybe that's why there's a body out there. A house guest killed someone."

"Maybe, but as you said, it could be anyone. I wonder if Montparnasse knows who it is."

"Yeah, let’s not ask him. I don’t want to be murdered for knowing too much.”

“It would be a pretty dumb move to kill us while he’s the only one that knows we’re out here.”

 “You-“ Grantaire ran a hand anxiously through his hair. “You are being way too calm about all of this!"

"It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose, I just don’t see a point in getting upset."

"You don’t see a point? We found a fucking dead body, I think a little emotional outburst is more than justified!"

"I mean, a body doesn’t pose any threat to us and it’s not like it is freshly dead. I think we're probably safe from whoever killed them for now at least. So, I’m not getting upset over it."

He gave an incredulous laugh, "I can’t believe you’re being so rational about this."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, you've been going out of your mind for the past few days over literally nothing and now that there is something to get agitated about you revert to your typical robotic fucking unfeeling self."

He felt a prickle of anger through the sea of numbness. "Well, I’m sorry I've been such a pathetic head case. This is the closest I’ve felt to calm in two days, so I sincerely apologize that I’m not throwing a fit over something I can’t do anything about. At least I can fucking wrap my head around this,” he bit out.

Grantaire glared back at him, very obviously trying to hold his tongue. "I didn't mean- Shit. We just need to stop talking about this right now."

"Fine." Continuing this discussion was only going to lead to a falling out that Enjolras probably couldn’t afford to handle at the moment.

"I'm...” Grantaire ran a hand through his hair, “I'm going to make some god damn cookies."

"Shouldn't we maybe ration the food? We don’t know how long we'll be stuck out here."

"Usually I would agree, but fuck I need some comfort food," he said in a tone indicating he was willing to fight for it as he wandered over to the cabinets and started pulling out ingredients.

Enjolras watched him go, anger still simmering. They were both on unsteady ground, they needed time to settle. "Can I help?" He hadn’t even realized he’d said anything until Grantaire glared over at him, looking very much like he wanted to say no, but he nodded anyway with the stipulation: "If you agree to do exactly as I say."

"As long as it's nothing weird."

"I can’t promise it won’t be something weird."

"Fine. I agree anyway." He stepped up to the sink to wash his hands, hissing as the water frazzled the nerves in his half-frozen fingers. He hadn’t even realized how cold they had been when they were coming inside, he had been too preoccupied. After a minute of holding them under the cold tap, he dried his hands and turned to help the other man, pushing darker thoughts aside.

The tension gradually eased as they worked together. Enjolras was put in charge of measuring out ingredients as Grantaire added them. They spoke very little during the process.

"I don’t know how you manage it, but you look unnatural in the kitchen." Grantaire observed with a tired sigh. He was stirring the finished dough in preparation for scooping it onto the oven tray.

He shrugged. "I feel unnatural here."

Grantaire hummed and ate a spoon full of cookie dough.

"You shouldn't do that."

"Oh, come on, E. Live a little. Roll the dice on salmonella." he took another scoop of dough and waved it in front of Enjolras face.

Enjolras grabbed the spoon out of his hand and ate the dough. He wasn’t really a fan of raw cookie dough, but that wasn’t really the point. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic. It's comforting to know I have the power to push you to such recklessness."

"You're such a bad influence."

Grantaire gave him a wan smile and began scooping out the dough, Enjolras aiding him.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” the blond said when the cookies were safely in the oven.

Grantaire shook his head. “I’m sorry too. This whole situation is just so fucked.”

“I still don’t know why it has you so frazzled.”

“If we found one who’s to say there aren’t more hidden out there?” Grantaire said, his eyes wandering over the room, “I just don’t like the implications of finding a body here.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s fucking depressing, Enjolras. That body has been out there for who knows how long, rotting away and their family probably has no idea. It’s fucked up and it makes my head hurt. Shit…” He rubbed his forehead, trying to ease some unseen pain.

“Are you alright?” Enjolras asked rather helplessly, wishing he could take back his words.

“I’m fine, just leave it.”

“Sorry.”

There was no reply as Enjolras left the kitchen as he had intended to do before.

With a stewing anguish building in his chest, Enjolras searched for something to occupy his time. He was too unsettled to attempt anything productive and he didn’t do much in the way of frivolous activities, so he took to sorting through some of the junk in the living room. Most of it was just trash that no one had bothered to throw out, including one used syringe, and a random assortment of tools, but underneath an old blanket he found a stack of tattered looking books. He grabbed a handful and brought them over to the only armchair in the room, looking over the covers. They all appeared to be trashy romance novels, not exactly his cup of tea but he did need a distraction.

As he was just about to open the first book Grantaire walked into the room, two cookies on a napkin. He silently handed one to Enjolras who accepted it with a soft “Thank you.” There was no reply aside from a grave nod before the brunette slumped onto the couch, sketchbook in one hand, cookie in the other.

Nibbling at the warm treat, Enjolras opened the first book. He was surprised to find that the acknowledgments had been scribbled out in black pen and replaced with “For those depraved individuals lacking the good sense and moral fortitude to destroy this book with extreme prejudice.“

As he turned through the first few pages he found that nearly everyone was crammed with scribbled out sections and notes full of derisive comments in the margins. A quick peak at the other books confirmed at three of the four he picked up were similarly annotated. He spent the next few hours reading and found that the comments were far more interesting than the actual content of the books, which were bad enough that they probably did deserve destruction.

He was quickly able to assess that Azelma must have been the commenter as some of the tangents in the margins contained statements saying: “Éponine would tear someone’s tongue out if she heard them say this.” Or “Mom would throw herself into a volcano before she let this happen to me.” and so on. Her comments came in different forms, some were there to critique the writing style or structure of the novel, some were there to insert better ideas or dialogue, some parts were blacked out completely because she found something about them objectionable, and some were there apparently just for her own amusement.

From the sound of it she had some of Éponine’s bitterness toward the world but in a more passive “what can you do?” than a “I’m going to do something about it.” sort of way. Perhaps that was why she had elected to stay with their parents while Éponine ran away. Enjolras wondered if she wanted to be a writer or an editor of some kind or if she would be upset with him for reading her notes. Perhaps when they got out of this house he would ask Éponine if she had any contact with her, she had good linguistic flow and might make a good speech editor.

By the time he looked up Grantaire had fallen asleep and it was raining outside, he hadn’t realized how dark it was getting. The sound had been significant enough to startle him from his reading but it was more a light sprinkling than anything and it was likely to freeze overnight. Still, it kindled a small flame of hope that they would be getting out soon.

Distractedly, Enjolras looked over at the small stack of books, nearly all of which were devoid of comments and then over toward the stairs, wondering if there were more books up in Azelma’s room. He got up and wandered over to the foot of the stairs, before he stopped himself. It was one thing to read the books that were out in the open, it was another to go snooping through her things in search of more. He shook himself and walked back to the living room.

When he walked over the threshold he realized something felt off, he paused, trying to work out what it was.

"Something wrong?" Grantaire asked from the couch, having apparently woken up. He was now back to doodling in his sketchbook.

"I'm not sure." Something just seemed to be missing.

“Sure you’re not just hungry? We forgot to eat lunch. I can get started on dinner."

"Sure." he wasn’t really hungry. More distracted and fatigued than anything.

Grantaire sighed, "I don’t really want to get up."

"You don’t have to. There's another frozen pizza in there. I think I can manage that."

"Nah, I'll get up in a second." He frowned down at his sketch book.

"What have you been drawing?" Enjolras asked. He had never really been privy to much of Grantaire’s work.

Grantaire shrugged. "Just a bunch of random stuff. It’s sort of Halloween inspired because of this place. Nothing too special or specific."

"Can I see?"

Grantaire cast a nervous glance at the book, like he was desperately trying to remember what he had put in there before handing it over. “Knock yourself out.”

Enjolras carefully flipped through the pages. There were a number of different haunted house designs and spooky trees as well as jack-o-lantern faces along darkened roads, and ghostly cemeteries. "Is that me and Jehan as ghost busters?" he asked although it obviously was.

"Maybe. I also drew you as a ghost, throwing a pen holder."

"That’s oddly specific. May I ask why?"

"Sometimes when you're talking you pick up that pen holder on your desk and I'm always worried you’re going to throw it at someone when you start to get worked up." Enjolras actually had that pen holder in his suitcase. It made him feel important when he was writing out things on paper and gave him something to fiddle with sometimes when he was talking, though he hadn’t realized it gave off the impression he was about to hurl it at someone.

"I didn’t realize I was so aggressive about it. You’re really good at caricatures. It looks just like me." And it did, though he had to protest the slightly exaggerated anger on his ghostly face. Grantaire had taken the artistic liberty to dress him in a Victorian looking suit, presumably to give it a more vintage feel.

"You just say that because you have no eye for art."

"Maybe so, but I still think they’re good so don’t argue with me."

"Wouldn’t dream of it."

Something in his words cause Enjolras to look up at him. Their eyes met for a moment, Grantaire’s reading as tired but fond. After a heartbeat, Grantaire’s eyes slid to the side and focused elsewhere on Enjolras face.

“You still have some mud right there,” he said, reaching out to skim the area just below his right cheekbone. Enjolras lifted a hand to the spot and felt a light dusting of dry mud come away under his fingers. He hadn’t been aware of it in any capacity. It must have come from digging into the ground, but he didn’t remember touching his face.

“Thanks,” Enjolras said, feeling slightly flustered. His brain buffered for a moment in search of something to occupy the blank space now that the words had stuck in this throat. Forcing himself to looked down, he turned the next page of the sketchbook to find a drawing of a grotesque monster sliding out from under a rickety stairway. His first response was to wrinkle his nose, then paused as it finally clicked what felt off.

"The generator isn’t on," he said in surprise.

"What?"

"I can’t hear the generator. It must have shut off."

“It’s not supposed to do that, right?”

“No, we’ll have to go down and look at it.” He was more confident in his ability to fiddle around with the generator until it worked than he was in his ability to retain his calm while he was down there. His mind kept spinning back to the paralyzing fear of the night before.

"I'll get a flashlight. "

Enjolras stared down the basement door as Grantaire retrieved said flashlight.

“Are you going to be alright?” Grantaire asked as he opened the basement door.

“Yeah, let’s just get it over with,” he said as he stepped down the first set of stairs. The basement was shockingly cold and the air felt as though the molecules were too large, like they would get stuck on his throat and choke him, but he pushed the thought aside and focused on weaving through the garbage to the still warm generator. The problem was immediately evident, it had been manually switched off. All it took to send it humming to life was switching it back on.

“Did the switch just flip off?” Grantaire asked.

“Yeah, there must be a coil too tight in the switch or something. Or maybe it was on the edge when I turned it on,” he said without really believing it.

“Well, that was easy then. Let’s get out of here.” He stepped aside to let Enjolras walk ahead of him.

Facing the darkness filled the blond with a mounting sense of dread, apprehension was seeping into his stomach. At every shift of his eyes he felt he might see something moving in the darkness. As he neared the stairs he stumbled back, the air having been knocked from his lungs. The sensation was akin to being punched in the chest, something he’d had the misfortune of experiencing before. Seconds after the first blow, he felt another to his face, dulled under the shock of the first attack. Distantly he could feel hands grabbing at him, he struggled for a moment before his brain registered that it must be Grantaire. He was too busy looking wildly around at the darkness, which appeared to be closing in around them, wrapping them up in some constricting blanket. He was distantly aware that he was being pulled forward when he stumbled over the lip of a step where he could swear he felt someone grab him and yank back his hair. Grantaire caught him before he could fall, hand already around his wrist, and pulled him up the stairway as shock fell away to heavy panic.

Grantaire was with him in seconds, fussing. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”

"Yeah," he was gasping a bit for breath. The door was still open, the darkness glaring up at them with simmering anger, so he kicked it shut.

"Your nose." Grantaire said in alarm.

Enjolras lifted his hand to his face and his fingers came away with blood. He looked down and realized it was dripping all over his shirt. “Oh.”

“Hang on.” Grantaire left and returned with a fistful of napkins. “What happened down there? I thought you were passing out when you fell.”

Enjolras pressed his face into the napkins, tilting his head back and feeling the blood pour down his throat.

“I felt like someone punched me in the chest.” He raised a hand to the place where he felt the blow, the skin tingled and smarted like a bruise. Without pausing to think he started to pull his shirt over his head.

“Um, what are you doing?”

He ignored Grantaire and looked down at his body, blood falling onto the skin in the absence of the napkins. Near the center of his chest there was a formless red imprint, the skin was raised like a rash.

“Woah, how long has that been there?”

“I don’t know, it wasn’t there this morning.”

Grantaire cautiously poked at the skin, which simmered with pain. When he looked up his gaze caught on Enjolras’ neck. “You’ve got a scratch.” He pointed to his right side.

Enjolras placed a hand at his neck and winced in pain as the same prickle came from the scratch. His fingers were bloody. He walked over to the bathroom and Grantaire held a flashlight to the mirror as he tilted his head. The scratch started toward the middle right of his throat and dragged upward, fingers presumably catching in his hair. They were shallow but deep enough to draw blood at the start.

“Did you scratch yourself as you fell?” Grantaire asked as they walked out of the bathroom, Enjolras slipping his shirt back on.

“I don’t think I did it.”

“What do you mean? I was the only other one there. You had to have done it.”

“So what, you think I punched myself in the face and scratched my throat just for the fun of it?”

“No, I just think maybe something is a little off and you aren’t quite in control of your actions.”

“And I just happen to have a mark where I felt I was pushed.”

“Yes-“

“No. That is _not_ what happened?”

“Then what did happen? You can’t expect me to believe that a ghost hit you.”

“I swear. I fucking swear I didn’t do this. I don’t know what happened but I can promise it wasn’t me.”

"How can I believe that when you aren’t a reliable source? I’m tired of weird shit happening."

“So, I’m just crazy then?”

“Yes!” Grantaire snapped, regret flashing in his eyes even as he said it. “No. That’s not what-“

“Fine. Don’t believe me I don’t care, it doesn’t matter anyway.” He started to walk away.

“Enjolras, I’m not doing this to be a dick. I just don’t know what’s going on in your head and-“ he stopped when a sudden sound cut in. It sounded like knocking. Their heads both turned toward the front door. After a moment of stunned silence, they walked to the entryway and looked out the peep hole to see that no one was outside.

Enjolras felt anxiety chew at his gut and locked the door before they returned to the living room.

“For a second I thought someone might be here to get us out,” Grantaire laughed shakily. “Look, I’m really trying to be…. Understanding here. I just don’t think you’re a reliable narrator right now.”

“You’re probably right. But I just know I didn’t do this. I can see it so clearly.”

“I know. I’m just… going to start on dinner. You can help if you want.” The implication was more that he didn’t want him out of sight.

“Fine,” he said bitterly, storming into the kitchen as Grantaire trailed behind.

“We’re making pancakes,” Grantaire announced, pulling out a box of pancake batter.

Enjolras really wasn’t very hungry. He brooded his way through the pancake making process, offering only clipped responses to Grantaire as they worked. He knew he was being unfair but he couldn’t shake the dread weighing him down. It didn’t help that his neck and chest were aching and that the throbbing in his nose was feeding into a growing headache.

Maybe he was just losing his mind but the marks on his body were something physical that Grantaire could also see. They were real and he was sure that he remembered how they occurred. Something in that basement had harmed him, something that he couldn’t see. He briefly allowed himself to consider the idea that the house was actually haunted, just as a hypothetical. If that were true, and that was a big if, then he and Grantaire were both possibly in very real danger with the generator being in the basement. Maybe whoever it was had been killed down there and was the body in the backyard. That would certainly account for some measure of anger but why hurt people like this? What would be the point? It seemed more logical to try to work with people so that they could find their body and give them a proper burial or something to that effect. Then again, perhaps that wasn’t how being a ghost worked. He was trying to apply logic to something inherently illogical.

The ghost theory brought about more questions than it did answers, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the best explanation for what was happening. Still, if this place was haunted, why was all the ghostly attention being focused on him and not Grantaire? Was it too difficult to bring two people into this loop or were they just fucking with him?

But, all questions aside, how would knowing the place was haunted help him? It wasn’t like he had any way of fighting them off. The best thing he could think to do was try to lace together what was happening but he didn’t think there was enough information available to him for that. So, he was stuck and if they got out tomorrow, he was sure that he would spend the rest of his life wondering about what exactly happened in the house. The first thing he would try to do when he got out was talk to Éponine, her ghost stories hadn’t sounded very much like what he was experiencing. Perhaps she, like Grantaire, wasn’t sensitive to such things; an idea that assumed that he _was_ sensitive and not crazy. Or maybe the death of whoever it was occurred after she had run away from home. He stood by his judgment that the body in the backyard hadn’t looked especially ancient…

“Apollo, I can’t hear myself talk over how loudly you’re thinking.” Grantaire interrupted his line of thought as he poured batter onto the pan over the stove.

“Maybe you should stop talking to yourself.”

“It keeps me sane. Want to add some chocolate chips?” he asked, offering what was left of a bag of chocolate chips.

Enjolras took the bag distractedly and cast a handful onto the pancake.

Grantaire gave the cooking batter a disappointed look. “You’re no fun at all.”

“Good.”

“Are you going to be angry with me for the rest of our stay?”

“Maybe.”

“I suppose it was only a matter of time, but we were doing so well. Before finding that body one might even say we were getting along,” he said in with falsely cheerful inflection.

Enjolras felt a pang of guilt. “I shouldn’t be taking it out on you, it’s really just this whole situation that has me frustrated.”

“That’s alright, I’m happy to be your punching bag,” he shrugged as he flipped the pancake, Well, maybe not happy but I’ll do it.”

“That’s awful, you shouldn’t let me be terrible to you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ve done something to deserve it at some point.”

“No, you’ve been more patient with me than I could have asked for. I really appreciate it, even if I’m being difficult about it.” He had been handing the situation far better that Enjolras imagined he would, himself. Grantaire did not deserve to be kicked around while he was being kind under stress.

“Nah, I’m just trying to get through this.” The brunette shrugged dismissively. “As soon as we get out of here you’ll be back to your old self and better yet you can be rid of me.”

That stung a bit, the insinuation that Grantaire would just ditch him as soon as they were out. That maybe that was what he wanted. He hadn’t asked Enjolras along after all, he was a victim of chance. “I’m sorry you got stuck here with me and that you have to deal with this.”

“Not your fault, I’m sorry too.” He flipped the first finished pancake onto a waiting plate and poured more batter into the pan, allowing Enjolras to more carefully place his chocolate chips in the wobbly shape of a peace sign.

Enjolras wasn’t sure if Grantaire had been sorry that the blond was having to deal with this situation too or if he was also sorry that he was stuck here with Enjolras. One of those apologies hurt more than the other, but he shoved that thought aside. It didn’t really matter either way, thinking about it wasn’t going to fix anything. They were stuck whether they liked it or not.

“What do you think everyone else has been doing out there in the real world?” Enjolras asked after a moment, deciding to leave his brooding for now.

“Probably placing bets on the outcome of us being stuck together so long.”

“What would you have said?”

“I’m not sure, probably not this.”

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone is going to be making any money betting on us.”

“Well, we aren’t out yet and we have some creative friends. I wouldn’t count them out yet.”

They finished cooking the pancakes on more equitable terms after which Enjolras muddled his way through eating dinner. The stress and lack of sleep seemed to have suddenly caught up with him, he was so fatigued that he was worried he might fall face first into his food. They had the radio switched on as they ate. The weather forecast predicted tomorrow would be a day of light rain before more freezing weather conditions blew in. Not an especially inspiring thought. After that dreary announcement, the channel had been switched to music.

As they were clearing the table they both heard the generator cut out.

“Well, shit…” Grantaire swore.

Enjolras was frozen, his body felt too heavy to move, mind too distant to register the fear he would have otherwise felt.

Grantaire gave him a searching look but seemed to decide that he was too checked out to deal with the situation. “Uh you stay here,” he grabbing a flashlight, “I’ll be right back.”

Enjolras managed to carry himself to the living room as Grantaire descended the steps. The time he was out of sight seemed to stretch into eternity. Enjolras stared blankly into the darkness wondering if he would ever come out again. Perhaps he had been captured or possessed by whatever was down there. He hadn’t heard any shouting or struggling, but that didn’t really mean anything when he didn’t know what he was dealing with.

But his worry was for naught as Grantaire appeared at the top of the stairs looking worried. “I think we have a problem.”

“What?”

“So, it won’t just flip back on and the only way to get into the machinery part is by means of a key that we don’t have for a locked panel. And even if we did get it open I’m not sure we would be able to fix the problem. So, we are kind of fucked.”

Enjolras slumped against the wall next to the door.

“Are you alright?” Grantaire hovered at his side.

“I’m… I’m fine. Just so tired.” His words came out in a slur, he was too exhausted to enunciate.

The worry in Grantaire’s face was suddenly more pronounced. “Okay, let’s get you up to bed. Alright?”

“Yeah.” He allowed himself to be pulled up from his slumped position and toward the stairs and the hall around him seemed to tilt, his body felt so heavy.

He blinked, trying to clear his head and suddenly he was laying in Gavroche’s tiny bed next to Grantaire. “How-“ His head hurt as he tried to remember the trip up. He had changed his clothes, so it must have happened.

“What?” Grantaire was lying on his side toward him, his face obscured in the darkness.

“I don’t remember coming up here,” he managed.

“You’re half asleep, don’t worry about it. We can figure this out in the morning, just go to bed.”

“But I don’t want to,” he protested. He was confused and worried over where his dreams might take him.

“You have to. We can figure this out in the morning,” he repeated, “If it helps at all, I’ll be right next to you.”

“How are you going to defend me against the power of my own twisted mind?”

“I don’t know but I’ll do my best.”

Enjolras placed a hand on Grantaire’s chest, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt, in a feeble attempt to express his gratitude through physical contact. “Thank you.” He wasn’t even sure he managed to get the words out coherently before he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things got out of hand, I probably should have split this up but oh well. Only one or two chapters left depending on how many words it takes. I wrote an alternative end to this chapter that was like 3 times cuter but it didn’t really fit the rest of the story so I’ll add it as a bonus chapter once it’s done because I spent too much time on it haha
> 
> Feel free to tell me what you think is going on. I can’t tell how it’s being interpreted, knowing what’s going on.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> E catches up on sleep and gets very sick, R is very very worried. Then things dissolve into complete chaos.

Dark.

It was very dark.

Enjolras found himself drowned in darkness, it incased him completely.

It filled him up, textured like earth: soft, wet and cool. More than anything it was heavy; A crushing weight above him, compressing his body.

His ribs were broken but he didn’t feel them anymore. He didn’t feel anything anymore, not in any real sense. He was far away from that now, but not too far. Not nearly far enough. Not far enough to escape the phantom itch of insects burrowing into his skin, his body expanding with gases and purging liquids into the darkness, oversaturating the ground as his body was shriveling away to nothing.

Not nearly far enough.

He wanted out.

Enjolras jerked himself into consciousness so violently he found he was sitting bolt upright, heart racing and mind reeling, he was drenched in sweat and freezing cold. Thoughts ran a million miles an hour through his mind but they were too fast to process, he had to work at bringing his brain to the realization that he was sitting in bed and not still laying in the ground. Squinting into the darkness he could see the vague shape of Grantaire curled in toward the center of the bed, fast asleep and oblivious. He tried to take comfort in that.

Closing his eyes against the world, he took in a full calming breath and exhaled in a hushed cough. Outside the door there was a stuttered footstep as if someone in the hall had heard the sound, not having known someone was in the room. Enjolras held his breath, laying back down beside Grantaire. He was shivering despite the blankets and the heat Grantaire provided. The lack of sleep must have caught up with him because he was still monumentally exhausted, already slipping away into a half dream state when there was a gentle knock at the door.

Or maybe that had been his imagination.

Despite his deep exhaustion, his sleep was restless from that point on. He was in and out of consciousness, listening to whispers of things he shouldn't be hearing. Watching people come and go, keeping careful track, making meticulous little notes. They were people in his house and their voices were familiar, but when he tried to focus on the specifics he would find himself half-awake again. His heart was beating in his chest far too loudly whether he was dreaming or not. When he was awake he was shivering, disoriented, and desperately thirsty.

His dreams held a sense of urgency. There was something he had to do something. He had to tell someone something, but he was biding his time. He got the nagging feeling that he had waited too long.

* * *

The second time he was fully awake it was because the door downstairs was rattling, as it had the night before.

The thing downstairs wanted out.

He found his own knee jerk reaction to this sound somewhat perplexing. When he heard taps and rattles at the door to the room he now slept in he felt cold and anxious while the shuddering basement door made every hair on his body stand on end.

It was as though whatever was in the hallway was hateful but benign while the basement held something vindictive and out for blood. There was so much anger and someone had to pay.

Enjolras covered his ears and waited for the sound to stop, which it did only moments later, but the sound seemed to echo through his memory.

* * *

The third time he woke it was because something inside him felt wrong. His dreams had become a jumbled mess of disjointed images and sounds. Awake, he was colder than he had any right to be and yet was still dripping with sweat. He could feel the cold deep in his stomach like ice radiating outward, sharp and painful. He was sore all over, his mind was racing and his chest was tight.

He felt nausea creep over him in a wave. When he sat up, he fell back down as the room tilted. As carefully as he could manage, he lifted himself over Grantaire and hurried off in the direction of the door. As he walked the exit seemed to fall away from him, farther and farther away. He stumbled to wrench the door open and staggered into the hall, rushing for the bathroom in the darkness. It was pitch black, he had forgotten to bring a light, not that he had noticed.

He gagged, releasing the contents of his stomach into the toilet, all of his muscles seemed to contract as he heaved, pain resonating out from his core and through his limbs. An eternity later, it passed, he flushed it away. Breathing in, he gave a harsh cough that was throaty enough to make his eyes water.

He sat for a few moments in the gloom, head against the sink cabinets.

He jolted as he felt something move in the hall. Slowly turning toward the open doorway, he realized that he had forgotten to be worried about what was outside the door at night. Heart humming in his chest, he waited for something. Anything. As he scanned the dark nothingness.

Seconds later a light appeared, shining painfully into his eyes. He lifted a shaky hand to shield his face.

"Apollo?" Grantaire had apparently noticed his absence or at least had heard the toilet flush.

"I think I'm sick." Enjolras said pathetically, letting his head fall again against the cabinets.

Grantaire kneeled beside him and placed a hand on his forehead. "How do you feel?"

“Terrible.” Enjolras blinked up at him.

“I got that, I meant terrible in what way. You do feel warm.”

"I'm nauseous, my chest is tight, my throat feels awful, and I'm freezing."

Grantaire hummed, “Maybe we shouldn’t have gone outside this morning. Were you feeling sick earlier?”

“Not sick but not great,” he gave half a shrug, “I’ve been so stressed out it’s a little hard to tell when it started.”

The other man sighed, “I wish Joly were here. Do you want to go back to bed?"

"I'm worried I might puke all over if I go back in there," Enjolras managed, staring past Grantaire and into the empty hallway at his back.

"Okay, then I'll bring the blankets in here."

Grantaire dragged all the covers into the small bathroom and set up a make shift bed in the area between the toilet and the bathtub as Enjolras stared fixedly at the ceiling, determined to see nothing, too afraid to look into the hall. As soon as the bed was complete, he fell back boneless onto his pillow.

“Do you need anything else?” Grantaire asked.

"Can you shut the door?" he breathed.

“Can do.” The door fell shut and Enjolras felt some of his tension ease as Grantaire kneeled beside him. “Is it alright if I stay here?”

“Yes.” At this point he wasn’t sure he was above begging him to stay.

Grantaire slotted himself between the bath and Enjolras.

The blond was shivering head to toe in the cold. "Are _you_ cold at all or are my senses just a world off?"

"It's a little chilly, but not that cold. Here." He pulled Enjolras toward his body, wrapping his arms around him and running his hands up and down his back in an effort to transfer some heat.

Enjolras took a moment to appreciate this action before reluctantly speaking up into Grantaire’s chest. "If I stay like this there is a high chance I will puke on you and we don’t have the ability to shower."

Grantaire gave a hasty laugh, "Right. Turn around then. You can be my little spoon. For medical purposes of course.”

Enjolras made a face that was lost in the dark. “I don’t like the idea of spooning in the context of medical treatment, it sounds highly suspect.”

“Forget I said it then,” Grantaire said lightly, backing off an inch.

“I didn’t mean- I just meant that if you were a doctor and that was your prescription, I would be highly suspicious of your motivations.”

“Well, you would be right to do so, my motives are never pure. In this case, I want to warm you up, but I do have an ulterior motive.”

“What’s that?”

“Because you have a fever, you’re warming me up more than I’m warming you,” he teased.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and turned over, facing the cabinets. “Just so we’re clear, I _wasn’t_ questioning your motives. You have my complete trust at the moment.” And when exactly had that happened?

Grantaire pulled him to his chest with a laugh too close to his ear making him shiver. “Oh Apollo, don’t say that, I assure you I am a debased individual. Lowest of the low. Absolutely and Shamelessly depraved. Your trust is misplaced, but I promise not to tell anyone you willingly cuddled with me under the cover of darkness.”

“I think that’s probably the least reputation damaging thing you could tell people about me once this is over.”

“Oh? Then you wouldn’t mind me shouting reminders at you during ABC meetings?”

“I mind anytime you’re being needlessly disruptive.”

“You are protesting this far less than I would have ever imagined, the fever must be affecting your brain.”

“Why should I protest?

“Don’t you mind being associated with me in a closer than usual manner?”

“I don’t mind now, do I?”

“I don’t know, do you?”

“No, you’re warm and stupid.”

“Well, then you’re hot and mean. But you really don’t mind this?” Grantaire seemed genuinely shocked.

“I really don’t. Why should I? You seem like you want me to put up a fight about it.”

“I don’t know, it’s just what I expected.”

“Well, even I can be unpredictable at times.”

“Says the man who follows a daily work schedule so strict you could time a clock by it.”

“Hush, I am tired.”

“Then I suggest you sleep.”

“I am trying, but you’re too busy being an idiot. Sorry if I sweat all over you.”

“I’ll live, now sleep.”

* * *

He woke up once more from confused and paranoid dreams before morning, dry heaving into the toilet as Grantaire rubbed his back then fell back into bed. When it was far enough into the day to warrant staying awake, around 7 am, he laid miserably in place trying to focus more on Grantaire's breathing than his own pains. He remained cold and tired. His throat and chest sang a painful protest when he breathed any deeper and a shallow breath.

This whole thing was somewhat typical of him even if it didn’t feel like an ordinary flue. He was not often sick but when he was it usually took him out violently and for days. However, the inconvenience of the timing was frustrating.

He lifted a hand to his mouth and wiped away a trail of drool from his face. He wasn’t sure how he could be drooling so much when he was so desperately thirsty. He had rubbed more spit from his face in one night than he had in all his life.

Grantaire was still at his back, holding him together. Enjolras wondered how he would ever thank him for all he had put up with over the past few days. His debt would likely never be repaid. He hoped that they would remain friends in the aftermath of all of this, closer than their former close but at a distance. But for now, he would lay there and appreciate the erasure of any distance between them. Or that was what he intended, instead he took a deeper breath than he wanted and the air caught in his throat. His violent coughing fit woke Grantaire.

"Still feeling awful?" the brunette asked sleepily when the coughing subsided.

"Mm." He wasn’t quite ready for words yet.

Grantaire lifted a hand to feel his forehead, then let it drift back to brush sweat soaked hair back from his face. "Well, you're burning up. Are you still cold?”

“Like I’m lying in a snowbank.”

“Do you want to stay up here or go down by the fire? It’s probably warmer down there."

"By the fire." What he really wanted was to lay down for longer and sleep as Grantaire held him, but he wasn’t about to say that.

"Can you walk?"

That was a good question.

Enjolras sat up as Grantaire rose to his feet, his head throbbing and he wavered slightly as the world spun. Grantaire caught his shoulder before he could fall back. Nausea prickled at his gut but he managed to keep it down. "I'm going to need assistance," he said through clenched teeth.

“I am happy to be your crutch,” Grantaire chirped as he put an arm around his waist, taking most of his weight as he moved down the steps. Enjolras felt physically drained by the time they reached the living room, he barely had the energy to give his thanks.

Grantaire laid him on the couch while he went back up to retrieve the blankets. Enjolras shivered with increased veracity in his absence. Despite this, he must have dropped off to sleep because when he next opened his eyes he was lying in a sea of blankets while Grantaire was eating one of their pancakes from yesterday, presumably cold.

“Hey, I thought you probably wouldn’t be hungry but you should try to eat.” He held up a bowl of dry cereal.

Enjolras made a feeble attempt to eat, but he had no appetite, though he was still unquenchably thirsty. He chugged a full glass of water and asked for more when Grantaire said he might want to wait to make sure he didn’t puke the first one back up.

* * *

He was running from someone. It was dark. The power was out. He was choking on the air, watery tears running down his face. Desperate, he sprinted up the stairs. Whoever it was behind him was just at his heels. The doorknob wouldn’t turn. The man grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled, then he was tumbling head over heel down the steps.

Down.

Down.

Down

When he reached the bottom the scene repeated, over and over he fell.

And then, Grantaire was shaking him. He had about two seconds warning before he puked into the bowl that was shoved into his face.

He sat for a second, breathing heavily, body aching.

"Are you okay?" Grantaire had a hand on his back, radiating warmth into his marble cold body.

He nodded slowly.

"How long was I out?"

"Maybe an hour. What were you dreaming about? You kept twitching, for a second I thought you might be having a seizure."

"Falling down the stairs."

"That… Would explain the twitching, I guess."

Enjolras didn’t have the energy to answer.

Grantaire was staring worriedly at him. "I think maybe I should try to get the car started.”

"Sounds good."

“Sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, I promise not to perish in your absence.”

“I’ll hold you to that. You don’t want me hunting you down in the afterlife.”

“Go, I’ll be fine.”

And reluctantly he left.

Enjolras threw a glance toward a nearby window where he could only just make out the state of the world from his reclined position. It was lightly raining. The snow had been diminished to a solid and icy looking four inches, having frozen overnight. Though it was likely to thaw somewhat as the rain continued, making the roads a slippery death trap. He felt dread pool in his gut. There was no way the car was getting out onto the road like this.

He jumped as a loud knock disrupted his thoughts. Looking toward the front door, he wondered why Grantaire would be knocking for his attention, but a breath later another knock shook the silence, originating from the basement door. Seconds later it was rattling violently.

He was on his feet before he had registered that he was moving toward the sound. Everything was muffled and distant.

When his hand touched the doorknob, the shaking stopped.

He deliberately turned the knob and pulled, throwing the door open. For a moment he saw nothing, just darkness. It took a few seconds for him to realize that it was too dark, something was blocking out the light. Inches from him was the loose shape of a person. She was a shadow, blending in with the darkness around her, her edges were frayed and flickered like fire. Enjolras stood transfixed in shock as she reached out toward him, her movement as heavy as the threat it implied. But before she could touch him, she was ripped away as if pulled by a string. There one moment and gone the next. A series of sickening thumps followed her

as

 she

   fell

    backward

      down

         the

            steps.

Time seemed to slow as she made her graceless descent. Enjolras could not tear his eyes away and he stood there staring at her for what seemed a long time after she had stopped, crumpled at the bottom and unmoving.

He was feeling lightheaded. Maybe he had forgotten to breathe.

He distantly heard the front door open and Grantaire entering but his gaze was fixed on that flickering form in the basement. He was on some level aware that he must look strange, sick and pale with an open basement door and in all likelihood a grotesque expression.

"What's wrong?" Grantaire had moved to his side.

Enjolras pried his eyes from the body and looked upon Grantaire, he was flushed from the cold and worried. His hair was dripping from the rain and he hadn’t taken his coat off.

Enjolras looked back down the steps and the woman had gone. He sucked in a breath and it came out in a strange strangled sound like an empty sob. The strength leaving him, he clutched the doorknob.

"What?" Grantaire caught him before he could fall. Lowering them both to the ground and shutting the door.

Enjolras put his face in his hands, his head throbbing painfully. "Nothing." Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. It couldn’t be anything. "I just... Nothing." He was shaking more in the absence of adrenaline now, or whatever it was that had possessed him to walk across the room, cold giving way to numbness.

Grantaire pressed his head to his chest, running his hands through his nightmare tangled hair. "Please tell me. I promise I won't- I just need to know what's happening," he pleaded.

Enjolras shook his head, making the room spin. "I don’t want to think about it."

Grantaire’s hand brushed his cheek. “Apollo, are you crying?”

Enjolras opened his eyes, startled to find his vision blurred by tears. He pulled back and wiped his face, the tears kept coming. “I don’t feel like I’m crying,” he said in confusion and he didn’t, the tears were just coming without any apparent reason, his eyes stinging in their wake.

Grantaire did not look convinced, he half carried him back to his makeshift bed, and tried to get him to lay down but he clung and so the brunette laid down instead, Enjolras laying half on top of him, he covered his shaking body in blankets.

“Can you please tell me what you saw?”

“A woman. She looked like a shadow and I watched her fall down the stairs,” his voice was dull and even, though the tears continued to fall, sliding down his face and into Grantaire’s shirt. “But she wasn’t real.”

Grantaire didn’t say anything but his breathing gave a stutter and he pressed his cheek against Enjolras’ hair. They laid like that for some time.

“The car?" Enjolras eventually asked, needing something to pull his mind away from everything that was happening.

"I can’t even get it started," he sounded strained and perhaps defeated.

“So, what now?”

“We see how the rest of the day goes.”

“And if it goes badly?”

“Then I run out to see if the neighbors will be of any help.”

Enjolras held him tighter. “You might be shot on sight. I heard gunshots in the woods the other night.”

“Well, I have to do something. Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”

He was half in and out of sleep before Grantaire got up and tried to get him to eat again. He refused, but drank two glasses of water after some pleading. Afterward, Grantaire sat at his side, pulling out his sketchbook and started doodling.

"What are you drawing?" Enjolras asked.

"Nothing yet. What do you think I should draw?"

"Something nice.” He shrugged. “I'm not creative enough for a question like that."

"Nice how?"

"I don’t know. Something warm and peaceful. The opposite of what I feel right now."

"I suppose I can work with that."

"How? That is literally nothing."

"You'll see."

"Can I watch?"

"Whatever you want."

Grantaire leaned back against the wall and allowed Enjolras to fall, his head heavily on his shoulder.

He watched Grantaire sketch out a series of shapes. Doodling little outlines of ideas in the corners of the page. He worked quickly, though to Enjolras’ eyes it all began to blur. He couldn’t seem to bring the world back into focus. He gave a heavy blink and when he opened his eyes Grantaire had made substantial progress. There was a bridge at the center of the picture over a half-finished outline of a stream where Grantaire had drawn him throwing food to fish. It was a peaceful image, although unlikely to happen in life. He had no time to stop and humor simple fish. Grantaire had again taken artistic license with his image and given him dramatic wings like an angel, stretched out like he was drying them in the sunlight.

"You made me an angel."

"Angels don't suffer. They're above that sort of thing."

“Seems an ominous choice.”

“I hope not, I was just trying to capture your seraphic aura.”

“I was under the impression I was more harpy like than angelic.”

“A harpy with an angel’s face. You charm the masses that you might later verbally tear them to ribbons.”

“That’s the plan, but only if they refuse to listen.”

There was a fluttering sound behind them. They turned to find that the fire had just flickered out. Grantaire tried to restart it to no avail, there was no more propane.  

"Great and now we have no heat," the artist swore.

Enjolras didn’t feel like it had been helping him much anyway.

"Okay, do you want to move upstairs? It's going to stay warmer up there for longer."

"Let's go."

The move upstairs was the most difficult thus far, he felt so heavy and his limbs ached when he moved. They had to stop halfway up the steps as he bent over in a body quaking coughing fit. Grantaire grabbed him and hauled ass toward the bathroom as he started gagging on his own spit. They only just made it before he was throwing up again.

"Do you want to stay in here or Gavroche's room?" Grantaire asked when he was finished.

"Gavroche's room." It was brighter in there. He was sick to death of the dark, a room on the sun wouldn’t be bright enough.

Grantaire led him to the bed and laid him down after he brushed his teeth. His eyes slid shut before the blankets were moved back upstairs.

* * *

Someone was touching him. He felt as though his head were filled with cotton. There was speech coming from somewhere but it was distant and muffled. Everything was blurry.

Enjolras blinked. Grantaire was shaking him, hands bracing his upper arms. His mouth was moving frantically and he looked distressed. Enjolras tried to force sense into the words but everything was so distant.

"What?" he clumsily forced his mouth to move.

"What are you doing?" The words were suddenly very clear.

He looked around, finding that he was standing in the middle of Azelma’s old room. "How did I get here?” The aches were starting to creep back into his body, his hands were shaking, twitching slightly, spastically, beyond his control.

“Sit down for a second.” Grantaire tugged him toward the bed nearest to the door and he jerked back as if the touch caused him pain, the force sent him stumbling back. He fell hard, back smacking awkwardly against the frame of the bed across the small space of the room.

Grantaire was staring at him in shock.

“Sorry, I don’t-“ He wasn’t sure why he had done it. “Why am I in here?”

Grantaire stood cautiously and helped him up onto the bed behind him. "What’s the last thing you remember?"

His head throbbed painfully as he thought back. "Falling asleep after you brought me up here."

"You slept for a while then woke up for a few minutes, so I told you I was going downstairs to get something to eat. And then when I came back you were standing in here, staring at the bed." He gestured to the bed he had jerked away from.

"I want to stay in here," he found himself saying.

“That’s all you have to say about this? You’re all set up over there." He pointed across the hall.

"No, I have to stay here."

“Why?”

“I just do.”

“I thought you didn’t want to even walk back in here.”

“I’m staying here.”

“ _Okay_ , I’ll go get your stuff.” His tone was sharp, he seemed too preoccupied to argue.

As Grantaire again moved his things, Enjolras focused on breathing. His throat felt swollen and he had to take deep breaths despite his protesting chest.

He coughed into his arm and it came away soaked in saliva.

Grantaire tucked him in as he returned, sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze searching.

Enjolras wanted to say something combative, to distract from what Grantaire might be seeing. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be anything good. Perhaps the breakdown of his mind had leaked out through his face, corrupting his features. He was in freefall, grasping for a lifeline but there was nothing to hold onto. He tried to turn his face away. Maybe he could pretend for a little while longer.

Grantaire brought it back with a gentle touch. "Hey, Apollo, look at me.”

He complied despite the heaviness of his eyes. For a brief moment they made eye contact.

“Your pupils are super dilated."

"Wha..." His eyelids drooped.

"Enjolras."

"Hm?" He was fading.

"No, you have to listen to me."

"I am. Promise."

"I know I said things were okay, but you’re really scaring me."

"Sorry."

"It's not your fault. I think... I think I should try to get help from the neighbors. See if someone can get is out of here because I don’t know what’s happening but I think you really need to get to a hospital."

His stomach clenched. Being alone in this house was the last thing he needed. "It'll be fine,” he assured.

“I’m not sure it will.”

“Look, just- Just- Please, don’t leave me here." He wasn’t sure what else to say, he couldn’t offer any logical argument to the contrary.

Grantaire gave a choked sound, "I don't _want_ to but I'm worried."

"If you leave, I think they might get me." And that was the truth of it.

"Who?"

"I don't know."

Grantaire pulled him close and just held him, rocking slowly and running a hand through his hair, clinging and desperate to keep him. He pulled back and placed both hands on Enjolras’ fever flushed cheeks, his thumbs smoothing over his too warm skin. "I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?"

Enjolras clutched at his hands. "Please don’t go."

"As soon as I can," his voice faltered as he stood to leave.

Enjolras reached pathetically and caught his hand. "Please."

Grantaire clasped the hand gently kneeling beside the bed and kissed its knuckles. “E, I will be back here as soon as I possibly can. No one is going to get you.”

Enjolras had never heard him speak with such conviction, he almost believed it. He gave a shaky laugh that sent him into a coughing fit.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

Grantaire leaned over and kissed his forehead. And then he was leaving.

Enjolras watched him slowly walk down the driveway once he was outside.

Without another person there, the house was deathly still. It made him want to scream. Instead he covered himself in blankets and tried to sleep, but after far too long tossing and turning he sat up. The covers were suffocating and his chest was burning.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself digging around under the bed near the door. His hand was flat against the bottom board that supported the mattress, fingers touching the edges of a notebook, he pulled it out. The book was spiraled and small with a purple cover. He flipped it open and found that it was filled with Azelma's handwriting and held a long list of names, numbers, and words that he could make little sense of. He had a sneaking suspicion that it was purposely coded. The last used page held a spreadsheet under the headline Slimeball and included a list of times, dates and nonsensical information starting from May 27 and ending July 19 of that year.

His head shot up as he heard footsteps in the hall. He never determined if there was anything out there, he blacked out.

When he woke up the notebook was sitting in his lap, a new page lay open. The writing large enough to fill two lines of space in the center of the page in black ink. He stared at the words in confusion. They had not been there before and there was a black pen in his hand, the handwriting was familiar but not his.

"MAKE THAT FUCKER PAY" was written in Azelma's steady script.

After a moment his head twitched up toward the window, he could hear something coming down the driveway. Grantaire must be back with help. The sky had grown dusky, he must have been gone for at least a few hours. Enjolras wasn’t sure what time it was. He wasn’t really sure where his phone was either.

He watched as an ATV came into view and his vision swam.

* * *

"Apollo, what the hell?" Grantaire asked as the two riders dismounted Montparnasse's ATV. “You shouldn’t be outside.”

Enjolras was walking forward, no outward sign of the weakness that had plagued him throughout the day. He couldn’t feel anything, not even the cold as sleet soaked through his shirt. He wasn’t wearing a coat.

Enjolras ignored Grantaire and advanced on Montparnasse who had come around to Grantaire’s side. "You!" he shouted, jumping at him, knocking them both to the ground and holding a knife to his throat. He hadn’t been aware that he was holding it until he made the motion. It must have come from the kitchen. 

"What the fuck?!" Montparnasse croaked, frantically trying to shove his attacker away.

Enjolras pressed the knife down harder. "Admit it!" he demanded.

Grantaire had grabbed him around the middle and was dragging him back, trying to pull the knife from his hand. Enjolras thought he might be saying something but the words were lost in his singular focus.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Get off!” Montparnasse spat as the knife lifted an inch and he was able to shove Enjolras back, nearly knocking both he and Grantaire over as he clambered to his feet.

“You know what you did! Fucking admit it!” The blond was on his feet in seconds, fighting as Grantaire grabbed him under the arms, slipping the knife from his grip.

"You're fucking delusional! What the hell is wrong with him?"

Grantaire threw the knife into the snow and held him back. "I told you he needs help."

"You didn’t say he was crazy,” Montparnasse spat, clutching his throat. He had a thin line of blood running from a fresh cut. “Fuck this shit, I'm out of here."

"Hang on! Shit-" Enjolras had elbowed him in the gut in an effort to break free.

"Let me go! He fucking killed them!"

"Calm down!" Grantaire was still struggling to hold him.

Montparnasse had gone very still. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about.” He leveled his gaze and met Montparnasse’s eyes. “And I want you to admit what you did.”

“Apollo, let’s just go back inside and get you into some warm clothes…” Grantaire was murmuring into his ear something rambling and artificially calm, but that wasn’t important now.

Montparnasse had stepped back to the ATV messing with something at the side instead of hopping on and riding off. Enjolras felt his stomach sink as he stopped fighting Grantaire and started trying to pull him toward the side of the house, out of harm’s way.

"What-?" Grantaire stumbled at the sudden change in direction.

"We have to go." Enjolras tugged at him, but he was still resisting.

There was a click. As soon as Grantaire saw the gun he started running, giving in as Enjolras guided them away. Before they could turn the corner, a shot rang out. Neither of them faltered for a second.

"What the fuck is going on?" Grantaire hissed as they ran along the side of the house, out of eyesight.

"Just trust me." Enjolras managed. His entire chest felt like it was on fire, he had to work three times as hard to get air into his lungs but the thought of stopping never even occurred. The words had been out of his mouth before he could consider them. Retrospectively, they seemed a poor comfort when he had just pulled a knife on someone for apparently no reason, but Grantaire didn’t have much of a choice.

"Shit. Okay. But if we ever get out of this, I swear…" He never finished his thought as they ducked diagonally across the backyard, into the trees at the far side. They were escaping into the tree line as Montparnasse was rounding the corner. Their pursuer had gone quiet as soon as the gun came out.

Enjolras wasn’t sure where he was going but he had to get there fast. He led them in a sprint over snow covered fallen trees and rocks. Down down down the hill, not daring to look back for fear of losing his footing. Montparnasse was somewhere behind them, his path lost in all the noise they were making in the crunching snow. Even if he lost them, it would be an easy trail to follow.

As they neared the valley Grantaire tripped over a fallen branch, buried in snow. He swore viciously in pain. Enjolras stopped to help but Grantaire shoved him off. "Go! Just go."

"I can’t leave you here," Enjolras protested against the frantically thrumming impulse to keep going, it was like a physical malady, making his head pound. He was almost there.

"Yes, you can.” He tried to stand and his leg gave, he grabbed a tree for support. The sloshing of wet snow was drawing closer. “You have to. I evoke your blood debt, so you have to listen to me. Fucking go!"

"But-"

Grantaire grabbed his face and kissed him hard on the mouth. "Enjolras I love you but fucking go or I will never ever fucking forgive you." He shoved him away and Enjolras’ legs were carrying him onward despite the screeching protest of his mind to turn back. It was out of his control.

As he broke into the valley he heard another gunshot. His blood turned cold.

He stopped Halfway across the opening, turning back to face the trees. Seconds later Montparnasse exited, gun pressed to Grantaire's throat.

In the dim light Montparnasse was breathing heavily and Grantaire was furious, but that was better than dead. "God dammit, I told you to fucking run! Now we're both dead."

"Nowhere to run now." Montparnasse pushed him further into the clearing. "I knew I shouldn’t have let you stay here. Did Éponine send you to find out what happened?"

Enjolras ignored him, "You need to be punished for what you did.”

"What the _fuck_ is happening?" Grantiare demanded, there was an exacerbated tilt in his voice.

" _Here_ is what's going to happen. I'm going to shoot the pretty boy and then I'm going to shoot you." He pressed the gun hard into Grantaire’s throat.

"And then the police will suspect you given you’re the only person who knows we’re here." Grantaire pointed out in a hysterical laugh.

"Not if I make it look like a murder suicide."

“You know, I do love a good murder suicide but the gun will be traced back to you."

"No, this gun is the legal property of one Monsieur Thenardier. He had a bad habit of leaving it out in the open. But if all else fails, I know some fuck ups in the police who can lose some evidence for me. If they don't fuck it up all on their own, that is. Small towns are not well equipped to investigate these types of things.”

“Our friends aren’t going to buy it, they’ll be all over you as soon as they hear what happened,” Grantaire insisted.

 “You just let me worry about that,” Montparnasse drawled, “If you have any last words now is the time.”

The gun was still aimed at Grantaire but the words were for Enjolras.

"Burn in hell, you slimy cud chewing mother fucker." Enjolras sneered with words that were not his.

"You-" Montparnasse snarled, lifting the gun from Grantaire's throat. As soon as the gun was pointed away, Grantaire threw his elbow, spinning out of his grip. Enjolras ran forward, pulling Grantaire back with all his strength.

Montparnasse steadied himself before aiming the gun again. "You-" he started again before reeling back as if struck. "What the hell?" He struggled against some unseen force as it hauled him backward over the snow by his coat. The image was terrifyingly surreal as he disappeared under the cover of an evergreen tree where his shouts of protest sharpened into a blood curdling scream.

Enjolras was standing motionless, staring, hoping it hurt. Grantaire was the one to break away from his shock, and soon they were racing back toward the house through the endless woods. As they finally neared the front of the house, Enjolras looked up at Azelma's window. For a brief second, he thought he saw a flash of something before it was gone, taking his strength with it. He stumbled. Grantaire grabbed him by the waist and dragged him inside locking the door behind them.

As soon as the door was shut Grantaire grabbed him at the shoulders, pressing back against the wood. He swayed slightly as he looked Enjolras over, it was dark so he couldn’t be seeing much.

"Are you okay?” the rattled brunette demanded, “What the fuck was all that?"

Enjolras shook his head. Falling forward, he wrapped both arms around Grantaire’s neck for support. "M'sorry."

"We have to get out of here."

"He's not coming back."

"How do you know?"

"He got what was coming for him." Enjolras was shaking as Grantaire held him tighter.

"When you say things like that it scares the shit out of me."

"Sorry." His legs gave out and Grantaire dragged him toward the couch.

"The roads are fucked, but we have to leave. You need some warm clothes. Why the fuck didn’t you put a jacket on?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he ran up to retrieve Enjolras’s clothes. The blond continued to sit in pain. He was so tired and beginning to feel the after effects of being out in the freezing rain. His nerves were screaming, it seemed he would never be warm again. He gave a heavy cough and struggled to pull his soaked shirt over his head. As he worked it off pain shot through his side. He looked down and saw a fair amount of blood had soaked the fabric. Once the shirt was off he saw that he had been struck by a bullet. Blood was dribbling out but it didn’t seem so bad. It had gone in from the back when they had turned to run but he hadn’t even noticed it until now. The bullet was still in there, it hadn’t gone all the way through.

When Grantaire reentered the room, he was staring at his bloody shirt thoughtfully.

"Shit." he leapt into action examining the wound. "Hopefully it didn’t hit anything major. It probably needs stitches and to get the bullet out-" he broke off, distraught. He was holding a hand in place to stop the bleeding. They didn’t have any real medical supplies because Joly was supposed to be there and he would have brought enough to supply a small emergency room, so instead Grantaire tied a shirt around it, babbling nonsensically the entire time about his limited medical knowledge.

"R," Enjolras called his attention. "Sh, it's okay."

"I should be telling you that, asshole. Jesus, the things you put me through."

"M'sorry."

“Don’t be… We just need to get out of here.” Grantaire took his face in his hands, probably smearing blood over him in the process. He pressed his lips to his forehead and held him there. "I just want you to be okay." After a moment he held their foreheads together, trying to gather himself enough to get them out of this house. “Promise me you’ll be okay,” he pleaded.

Enjolras wanted to promise that he would be, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. He felt blurry. Instead he moved forward and kissed him with all the energy he still possessed. Grantiare made a shocked sound and softened the kiss to something less frantically desperate and more pleadingly so.

There were tears on his face when he pulled back. Enjolras worried he might have alarmed him more than he reassured. Grantaire took a shuddering breath, “Right, let’s go.”

They frantically got Enjolras into warm clothes and bundled him into a snowsuit. Grantaire carried him to the ATV, staggering with the weight on his likely twisted ankle. The keys were still in the admission and there were still screams emanating from the woods, loud and broken.

They were off down the driveway. Enjolras watched as the house grew smaller behind them, looking just as ordinary as it had the day they arrived.

The hill down was terrifying as they slid half off the road. It looked as though at least a few people with workable vehicles had been down the street but it was not by any means cleared and their tires spun as they went. Grantaire stopped every once and a while to check for service but his phone was very low on battery. He had a terrible habit of letting his phone die so that no one could get ahold of him. Usually it was a habit that invoked fondly chastising jokes and halfhearted irritation now it seemed it could be the death of them. Each time he stopped, he checked to make sure Enjolras was still awake. The blond was further away with each time, feeling more like he was inside a fever dream than truly awake. Grantaire eventually put the phone away and kept it there until they slid down a large hill and drifted into a snowbank, getting immovably stuck.

Luckily, when Grantaire checked his phone he had service. Enjolras was distantly aware when he called 911.

"Hi! My friend and I are stranded and we need help like as soon as fucking possible. He’s really sick and the neighbor just attacked us." He rambled on but Enjolras lost track of his words as he tried to stay awake. He tried to focus again. "Yeah, I'm fine. Mostly fine. It doesn’t matter. The point is we can’t make it any farther the ATV got stuck in the snow. Yeah I- fuck it died." Grantaire grasped the phone like he was thinking about throwing it.

"They probably got enough," Enjolras said, though he had no idea if it was true.

"She said they would life flight us out."

"Do you know how much it costs to be life flighted? Too fucking much. This country’s medical policies are bullshit.”

Grantaire scoffed, "You sound better already."

“It’s almost over.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Grantaire stepped off the back of the stopped vehicle and slid Enjolras forward, replacing him so as to shield him from the cold. Enjolras didn’t think that was really necessary, he wasn’t feeling cold anymore. His body was floating apart from his mind.

“Hm?” His mind had to work at processing words.

“What was all that about Montparnasse killing someone?”

“He killed them.”

“ _Who_?”

“Ep…” he lost the words, “Ep’nine’s family.”

“How do you know?”

“’Zelma show…ed me. He strangled her to… death in the bed I was sleeping in. She didn’t like it.”

Grantaire said something that he didn’t catch. Poking at the blond he repeated his question: “Why would he kill them?”

“She was spying on him... He was double crossing her dad… she was a good daughter. But he caught her and lost it... I don’t think he meant to do it.” His speech was increasingly slurred with frozen lips and too much saliva.

“And the other two?”

“It was storming and… her mom was downstairs getting the generator working. Shoved her down the steps… He shot the other one out in the valley with his own gun.” He wheezed as his throat caught on the last word.

“And when did all this happen?” Despite his lack of attention, Enjolras could hear the slightly patronizing tone in Grantaire’s voice. He wasn’t believing a word of this.

“July 16, this summer. It’s their bodies in the yard. But it’s over now.”

“No more ghosts?”

“No more,” Enjorlas agreed, “Can I stop now, I’m… I don’t….” He felt very strange.

* * *

Distantly, he was aware that some time had passed when his eyes opened. There was a spotlight directly in his eyes. It was like something out of an alien movie, Enjolras felt like he was about to be taken aboard a UFO. He couldn’t quite grasp what was happening, he was struggling to breathe and he couldn’t feel his body, all he could hear was his own heartbeat. He wondered if he was dying. He didn’t have time to die, he had far too much still to do.

He was being moved, through the blur he caught sight of Grantaire, out of focus and far away. He tried to reach out toward him but his arms wouldn’t obey his commands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter took a turn that I was not quite expecting and so there has to be. Hopefully I can get it out soon but things are suddenly chaotic in my life. I need to go back to reading papers about dirt. And I should have done a better job setting this all up. Maybe I was being too subtle, I dunno, its so hard to tell while writing it. 
> 
> Paying for transport in medical emergencies is fucking bullshit. I had to pay 700$ for an ambulance ride that was less than ten minutes. 
> 
> Not especially happy with how this came out, got a bit sloppy with the symptoms.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath (In which I ignore reality because I couldn't be bothered to be realistic about anything medical (Sorry if you have any medical knowledge)).

When Enjolras started seizing, Grantaire’s heart dropped so quickly he thought he might find himself wrenched from time.

The great Apollo had undergone a steady decline upon leaving the house, his speech slurring into nonsense as Grantaire tried to keep him conscious before cutting himself off and falling into a fit.

Grantaire’s mind had gone blank, if at some point he had known what to do when someone was having a seizure it was gone from his head in that moment. The event must have only lasted a few seconds but it seemed as if he lived in that time for hours, frozen in shock.

When the blond stopped shaking, he suddenly remembered that he was the only person around capable of helping despite the fact that he felt positively helpless and very very ill. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flashlight, shining it over Enjolras’ face. He was breathing at least, his eyes squeezed shut and breath coming out in shallow puffs of mist. The image felt very wrong, Enjolras was supposed to be the strong fearless leader but he looked so frail.

Grantaire closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. There was a throbbing at the back of his skull falling in time with a sound that for a second he thought was his own heartbeat but it was too steady and slow. His eyes snapped open. He couldn’t see it yet but that was definitely the sound of a helicopter. An instant later a search light came into view, shining its way along the road. He raised his arms and gave a shout for their attention, though he knew they couldn’t hear him.

Their light lingered on them for a moment before moving past them. The irrational part of Grantaire’s brain screamed for them to return despite knowing they needed a clear space to land. Ears still echoing with the beating of the helicopter blades, Grantaire nearly missed the pathetic little sound Enjolras made. His eyes were open again but he didn’t seem to be seeing anything, nothing that wasn’t distorted by the fog of fever at least. Grantaire smoothed back Enjolras’ soaked hair, kissing him on the temple and whispering something desperate that poured from him without his ability to stop it. He just had to hold on, they were almost there.

When the medical team reached them they immediate began bombarding Grantaire with questions about Enjolras’ condition. He did his best to answer them, though he worried for his accuracy. What were his symptoms? How long had he been like this? Did he have a history of this sort of thing? And so on and so on. The fact that he was having trouble comprehending any of this made it difficult to answer.

After briefly examining him and slapping an oxygen mask over his face, Enjolras was loaded onto a stretcher and rushed off toward the waiting helicopter, Grantaire hurrying alongside.

The flight to the hospital was loud and terrifying.

Grantaire watched as the medical team fretted over Enjolras who would open his eyes every so often but remained otherwise dead still. They hadn’t seemed to gather exactly what was wrong with him yet, they were just trying to treat the symptoms as quickly as possible. Mainly they were trying to stabilize his breathing, which kept stopping.

Instead of flying into the local hospital, they were headed for a nearby city, which was better equipped to deal with them. The flight lasted nearly forty minutes and were the most harrowing of his entire life, which was saying something given the shit storm he had just been through. He didn’t even have the brain space to think about anything outside of Enjolras’ condition, he was trapped by his own cyclical thoughts and growing increasingly frantic.

Enjolras was whisked away as soon as they touched the ground.

Grantaire tried to follow, but was pulled aside by a set of nurses who were determined to examine him.

The lights seemed far too bright and nothing felt real as they led him through the halls. They ended Their journey in a curtained room, throughout they had been questioning him but upon reflection he didn't remember what they asked.

Their diagnosis was that he was in shock, which was unsurprising. When he removed his coat, they found a bullet wound in his shoulder that he had nearly forgotten about. When Montparnasse had cornered him in the woods, he had charged forward and the bullet brushed the skin of his left shoulder. He hadn’t really felt it at the time, but the pain had increased during the flight. It was mostly superficial, the bullet only skimming the top few layers from his skin as it passed over him. He didn’t even need stitches.

By the time they were done poking at him he was crawling out of his skin wondering what was happening with Enjolras. He was being told he would have to wait on an x ray for his ankle when another nurse dropped in.

"Did you just come in off the life flight?” the new nurse asked looking rather serious.

“Yes.” Grantaire’s heart stuttered in his chest. If he was about to be told Enjolras was dead or irreparably damaged he honestly wasn't sure what he would do. Probably something wild and self-damaging that wouldn't be any help to anyone.

“Can I ask you some questions about your friend?"

"Is he okay?" He dragged his thoughts away from the worst-case scenarios.

"He was slightly hypothermic when he came in but we don’t know what the underlying problem is. We need to run some tests, but he is stable for now. Does he have a history of asthma?"

"No.”

“Has he been exposed to any chemicals? Job related, around the house..."

"Not that I know of."

"Any reason to think he might be suicidal?"

Grantaire gave a strangled laugh. The only way he could see Enjolras killing himself would be for the sake of some dramatic and aggressively idealistic cause. "No." The answer was out of his mouth before he considered that not long ago Enjolras tried to stab someone, so maybe he didn’t know what would be out of character for him at the moment.

She nodded. "Do you know where he got all those scratches and bruises? They don’t look new."

It probably didn't look great that he had brought Enjolras in looking so rough after being the only person locked away in a house with him. "They’re self-inflicted. The ones around his throat were from choking himself in his sleep. The scratches he doesn’t remember doing, but I was the only other one there and they look like human scratch marks,” he rambled, knowing it probably made him look shifty.

"And the handprint?"

"What handprint?"

"In the center of his chest. There's a rash shaped like a handprint."

"I... don’t know. We were in the basement and he felt something hit him in the chest, but there wasn’t anything there. It didn’t look like a handprint then, just a red splotch."

She was giving him an unreadable look before asking a few more questions that he failed to answer and thanking him for his help.

"Can I see him?" Grantaire asked before she could slip away.

"Follow me."

He hobbled after her.

Enjolras was unconscious in his bed, hooked up to oxygen and connected to an IV drip. He was in a two-person room but the other bed was empty.

“Hit that button if you need anything,” the nurse instructed. Grantaire assumed she must have pointed to something but he hadn’t pulled his eyes from Enjolras’ motionless form.

He wandered across the room in a daze, trying to take in what he was seeing. They had removed Enjolras’ clothes and replaced them with a hospital gown, then wrapped him up in what looked like a heated blanket. The darker gold of his still wet hair made his face look even more deathly pale. The faded fingerprint bruises at his neck stood out all too bright, the scratch marks had been covered in a bandage.

Prying his eyes away, he noticed that Enjolras’ phone was sitting with his clothes on the side table. Grantaire imagined that it must have been in his coat pocket and with a shock realized that he should call the rest of the gang.

He picked up the phone and turned it on. The home screen was a picture of everyone at the Halloween party of only a few months ago. Enjolras had lost a bet with Bahorel and was forced to attend as Louis XIV of France. He wasn’t a particularly good likeness, but he was so angry about it and looked so good in the heels that it hadn’t really mattered. He'd then gotten spectacularly drunk and spent far too much time dancing by himself like an idiot. The picture had been taken at the start of the party by Cosette and Enjolras was the only one scowling. It was probably their most recent group photo, and yet it seemed as if had taken place in another life.

He spent a few moments staring at the picture, procrastinating the call he should be making. He unlocked the phone, knowing the password was Lamarque because Enjolras would often shove his phone into someone else’s hands (usually Combefrerre’s) and dictate texts to send out while he was doing other things.

Courfeyrac answered immediately when Grantaire called.

"E, holy shit we've been going crazy wondering what happened to you guys-"

"Courf, It's Grantaire."

"R? Why are you on Enjolras’ phone?"

"Its... A long story. Where are you guys?"

"We got as close as an hour outside of town before the roads shut down. We're all staying at a holiday inn." There was hushed speech in the background. "Everyone's desperate to know what you two have been up to,” he laughed, heavily implying _something_ in a near purr, more indistinguishable speech rattled on in the background . “And Jehan is desperate to know if you’ve seen any ghosts. Where are you?"

"Ah, well… In a hospital.” He winced.

Courfeyrac sucked in a breath. "Are you okay?" he asked, then seemed to realize the implications of Grantaire using Enjolras' phone. "Is Enjolras okay?"

"I'm fine. Enjolras is..." he couldn’t finish the sentence, staring down at the unconscious blond.

"He's what?! What happened?"

He wasn’t sure where to start. "I don't know. It's been insane. I have no fucking clue what happened,” his voice broke, “He started getting sick last night, but then he was also blacking out and saying creepy shit and he nearly got us shot trying to stab Montparnasse. So, I stole his ATV and called 911. They life flighted us out but they don’t know what the fuck is wrong with him yet. And-“ he blubbered on.

“Hang on, back up. Fucking _what_?”

“I don’t even know. I’m just-“

“Okay. R, listen to me, what hospital are you at?”

He gave the name.

"Right, we're going to get there as soon as possible."

"Are the roads okay?"

"Don’t worry about it, we’ll be there. Just take a breath. Enjolras isn’t going to go out lying down, it wouldn’t be dramatic enough.”

“You have no god damn idea how dramatic this was…" he laughed, "Sorry, I don’t have the capacity for… anything right now.”

“That’s alright, you can explain everything once we get there. Just listen to me talk for a while.” Courfeyrac spent the next half an hour telling him all about the misadventures they had while locked away in their hotel rooms. The sound was pleasant but the words didn’t quite reach him. Upon realizing he hadn’t been listening to the last five minutes of speech, Grantaire expressed the desire to hang up, assuring that he would let them know as soon as he had any information.

Not long after he ended the call, Enjolras’ lab work came back showing he was suffering from Organophosphate toxicity. The way the doctor had been looking at him as he relayed this information indicated that he may be a suspect for an attempted homicide, as the most common cause to organophosphate toxicity was due to exposure to pesticides and they hadn’t been exterminating bugs over the last few days, nor was Grantaire showing any obvious symptoms. Not exactly the ideal situation but at least they could actually treat him now.

* * *

The second Enjolras was awake he was swarmed with doctors. They were asking him questions and prodding at him with various medical instruments, informing him of his own condition whether or not he was actually awake enough to hear it. Grantaire anxiously waited out of the way for them to finish, stepping forward when they left.

Enjolras’ eye slowly found his. "Aire," he slurred, "m'I alright?"

"Yeah, they think you'll be okay."

"Good. I don't ‘ave time for this garbage, 've got things to do."

"Right you are,” Grantaire smiled, “Do you need anything? I can call the nurses for you."

His eyes grew unfocused for a moment. "I have to talk to Éponine. Gotta tell her 'Zelma forgives her for leaving. S'okay now."

"I'm not going to tell her that. You can talk to her once you're free to go." He was not about to call up Éponine with some wildly upsetting shit while it was unsubstantiated. He hadn’t even texted her yet, he wouldn’t know where to start or how to broach the possibility that part of her family may have been killed in her absence. That information also contended on Enjolras being believable, and the jury was still out on his mental status.

"But it's slipping away so fast..."

"I'll remind you later. Do you still stand by what you said about Montparnasse?”

“I think so? I know he killed them.”

“And you still say that Azelma told you this?”

“She didn’t tell me so much as she implanted the idea in my head.”

“…Right.”

"I know how crazy it sounds."

"They said that the chemicals would have been affecting your mental state."

"But I couldn't have been exposed the entire time, just at the end," he sighed, "I’m sorry I dragged you through all of this. You have full permission to wash your hands of me forever, if you want. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

Grantaire laughed, if only it were that easy. "Thanks, but that is unlikely to happen."

"Why's that?"

"Despite how much I hate you for being so..." he couldn't even think of the words. "I'm not about to ditch you."

"S'not what you said earlier."

"What?"

"You don't hate me."

Grantaire froze. "I-"

"Don’t look so worried." He extended his hand and Grantaire hesitantly took it.

"You're still delirious,"

"M'not."

“You are. Your body is still fighting off the pesticides you were secretly huffing behind my back.”

“I was doing no such thing. I got exposed through this.” He managed to wiggle down the front of his medical gown to show the perfectly formed handprint in the center of his chest. The skin was slightly raised and irritated looking, slight bruising around the edges as if he had been slapped with impossible force. The shape of the hand looked decidedly different than Enjolras'. It was squarer with shorter fingers. That was... Curious. Though perhaps the rash had distorted the shape. Grantaire wondered how he had missed it when Enjolras had his shirt off as they were leaving the house but things had been a little chaotic. Perhaps he could be forgiven for not being at his most observant.

"Does it hurt?"

"It makes my skin feel tight." He looked at the blemish thoughtfully before pulling his shirt back up.

“So, you contend that a ghost shoved an pesticide covered hand through your chest?”

Enjolras seemed uncomfortable at the phrasing. “Essentially.”

“That’s… I'm not even sure how to respond to that. Was the house haunted by a floating exterminator?”

“No, it was Éponine’s mom, she got sprayed in the face before she died,” Enjolras said, sounding as though he was doubting his own wild story.

“And it transferred over to her ghostly form? Sorry, but that is probably one of the most insane things I have ever heard.”

“Yeah, well... I don’t make the ghost rules.”

“Oh god, what are the ghost rules then? I am literally dying to know.”

“Well, I think they had to stay in the house, caught between the area where they died and the place where they were buried…. I don’t know, if you asked me earlier I think I could have probably given a better explanation.”

“Maybe it’s better for these things to just slip away." Grantaire shook his head. "You're fully committed to the ghost idea then?"

"Yes. Unless they tell me I'm crazy when they give me a psychiatric evaluation and come up with a plausible explanation for everything that happened."

"I suppose that's fair."

“Mmhm… What do the doctors think about how I was exposed? They don’t actually think I was purposely inhaling the stuff, do they?”

“No, they did ask if you were suicidal though. Apparently, farmers sometimes take the stuff to kill themselves. The doctors seem to think I poisoned you. You do look a bit like a domestic violence victim.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll make sure they don’t try to charge you with anything.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I'm going to let everyone know you're okay." Grantaire lifted the phone.

"You talked to them? I thought your phone died."

"Yeah, I used yours. They're on the way."

As Grantaire let everyone know Enjolras was probably going to make it the blond fell asleep. He was much more together when he woke up half an hour later.

“R?”

“Hm?

“What are the long-term effects of organophosphate poisoning?”

“They said possibly some behavioral changes, anxiety, depression, attention deficit, muscle weakness, respiratory weakness… I’ll ask again once someone comes back in.”

“Don’t worry about it. I was just thinking, if I get a ghost tumor from this I would be pretty annoyed… You still don't believe me on that, do you."

"On what?" Grantaire asked, still caught up on the idea of a ghost tumor.

“The ghost thing.”

“I can honestly say that I don’t know what happened.”

"You saw Montparnasse dragged off into the woods. And this handprint isn't mine." He nodded to indicate his chest when he failed to lift his arm.

"I don't know what to think or what I saw. It just seems like a stretch to suddenly say that ghosts are real. I mean, why wouldn't there be more evidence out there in the world? Besides neither of us were quite in our right mind."

“I did try to stab someone…” Enjolras frowned as if thinking hard about something. "And you said you loved me.” He blinked like he'd just remembered.

Grantaire felt his heart clench, he had hoped that wouldn’t come up. He didn’t particularly want to deal with the awkwardness of heartbreak on top of all this stress. "I thought I was going to die."

Enjolras’ brow furrowed further. "You also tried to take on a murderer for me."

"Yeah, well… better me than you. You have lives to change."

"Please don't do that again."

"Can't make any promises." He would have done the same thing again if he had to.

"Do not test me, Grantaire. I am ill of body and temper." Ordinarily a statement like that would be emphasized by Enjolras’ inherently intimidating aura but it fell a bit flat when he was hazy with fever.

“That just means I have a fair chance of winning my arguments."

Enjorlas gave a thin smile. He was about to say something when his phone vibrated.

"Les amis have arrived," Grantaire announced, awkwardly clearing his throat. "I'll go get them."

"Grantaire, wait-"

But he was already on his way out, numbly wandering his way down to the lobby. When he caught sight of his friends he all but ran for them despite his protesting ankle. He had never been so relieved to see anyone in all his life.

Bahoral was the first to catch him, sweeping him up in a crushing hug that made his shoulder twinge painfully. Distantly he felt the others pile on until they were one huge group hug. When he was released he found that his face was wet. He tried to speak up but a laughing sob was all that came out. He wiped his face on his sleeve, embarrassed as someone patted him on the back.

"Alright there, R?" asked Courfeyrac.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm fine. It's just been a long day. He's awake right now if you guys want to..." He wavered for a moment before turning on his heels and guiding them down the hall. "So, how was the drive?"

"Terrible, but I think we have more important things to talk about at the moment," Bossuet offered.

"Right, I guess you guys probably want to know what happened. I'll just start by saying that none of this was my fault as far as I can tell and l only say that because the staff here are looking at me like I did all this to him."

"Grantaire we know you would never hurt him," Combeferre assured.

"Yeah, well tell that to the medical staff. Here we are." He opened the door to Enjolras room and let everyone inside.

The blonde’s face immediately lit up as he was swarmed. As he was a bit sickly and weak it was unconsciously and collectively decided by the group that it would not be wise to throw themselves at the bed. Instead they were all reaching out to pat his head or hold his hands. Enjolras was too happy to be disgruntled about it and Grantaire slyly snapped a picture to capture the moment.

When things settled a bit Combeferre tried to guide the ruckus into a coherent conversation. "So, what exactly happened?" He looked back and forth between Grantaire and Enjolras.

“Too much,” Enjolras sighed.

"Is the house actually haunted?" Jehan clearly could not contain his excitement.

"Yes," Enjolras stated with confidence.

"Okay," Grantaire interjected, "you are way more confident about that than you were thirty minutes ago. I think that the house's haunted-ness remains to be seen."

“Well, my head feels clearer now and I think I’ve made up my mind.”

“Well, _I_ remain unconvinced and my head is clearer than yours.”

Joly had opened his mouth to ask something but Enjolras’ attention had narrowed onto Grantaire. "What would convince you?"

"If you turn out to be right about everything, I may have to concede the point."

"Okay, what do I get when I'm right?" A strange boldness had crept into his speech, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth.

"Uh, the gratification of knowing I was wrong and that you’ve proven the existence of ghosts?"

"Not good enough."

"What do you want?"

"If I'm right, you have to make me as many pancakes as I desire.”

"That's all?"

"You’re a good cook," Enjolras shrugged.

"The fever is still clearly affecting your brain. What do I get if your wrong?"

"Anything you want, I'm already eternally indebted to you."

" _Anything_ I want?" Grantaire couldn’t resist teasing.

Enjolras stared back at him. “Anything.”

Grantaire could feel heat creeping into his face. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Apollo.”

"I'm not wrong, so I don’t need to worry about it." Enjolras continued to hold Grantaire in place with his eyes.

"So, what would he be right about?" Marius asked, splitting the tension.

"Montparnasse killed Éponine's family over the summer." Enjolras grimaced.

"Holy shit! Why would he kill them?"

Enjolras explained what he thought had happened in more or less the same way he had told Grantaire while they were waiting for the helicopter.

“So,” Combeferre said evenly, “You don’t actually have evidence that he killed the Thenardier family specifically, do you?”

"He tried to shoot us," Enjorlas pointed out.

"I think he assumed we found the body in the yard,” Grantaire reasoned, “That just means he probably killed _someone_ at some point."

"You guys found a body?" Cosette gasped.

"Apollo found a body,” he clarified, “And I suppose the ghosts told you about that too."

Enjolras nodded. "I just started digging and there it was."

“You didn’t touch it did you?” Joly asked in horror.

“He tried,” Grantaire grimaced, he felt lightheaded thinking about it. 

"Okay, so how did he start shooting at you?” Bossuet asked, “You didn't just ask him if he murdered someone, did you?"

Enjolras winced." Not exactly. I blacked out and when I came to I was swinging a knife at him."

"He was too sick to walk all day and when we pulled up he was charging out of the house in the freezing rain with no jacket,” Grantaire elaborated, “Thank god you didn't actually stab him."

"I don’t think I was trying to kill him, just trying to lure him down to the valley."

“And you couldn’t have done that without waving a knife around?”

“I don’t think I was really in control of the situation.”

“So, you think you were possessed?” Jehan asked.

“I was at least heavily influenced, mostly while I was unconscious.”

“What did it feel like?”

“Like I was losing my mind.”

"What do you think happened to Montparnasse after we left?” Grantaire interrupted as the thought occurred to him.

Enjolras did not hesitated in his answer. "He got what he deserved."

"But what the fuck does that mean?"

"I don’t know, but I imagine he's probably dead."

"Well, I hope they don’t think we did it because I’m starting to think they’re going to have enough information by the end of this to falsely charge me with at least something."

They eventually explained at least in outline everything that had happened while they were trapped inside the house and the talk wound its way around to what everyone else had been doing in their absence. With this change in topic Grantaire withdrew bit by bit from the conversation until he was more observing than engaging. He watched Enjolras talk to their friends with a sad sort of ache in his chest, feeling rather disgusted with himself. He'd had the radiant glory of Enjolras’ full attention for the last few days and already he was missing that light. Well, he had best get used to it.

He managed to slip away during a particularly engaging moment and wandered off to get his foot x rayed, allowing Enjolras the space to catch up with their friends. As he took his seat in the waiting room, he felt as though his insides were full of oily black sludge and that suited him just fine.

As he was returning to Enjolras’ room nearly two hours later, Combeferre was approaching the door at the same time as him.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"I had to get my foot x rayed. It's just sprained, luckily."

Combeferre frowned at him. "You should have said something, one of us would have gone down and waited with you."

"That's alright, I needed some time to breathe," Grantaire gave his best disarming smile.

The frown remained but Combeferre let it go. "Well, you arrived just in time. They're kicking us out of here. So, we were all going to head out to find a hotel, if you're free to go."

Grantaire nodded. "Almost free, I think I have to go do some stuff at the front desk first, so I’ll meet you down there. Tell Apollo I said bye."

"You're not going to say goodbye yourself?"

"Nah, I'm sure he's seen more than enough of me over the past few days."

"You're avoiding something.” The way he said it left no room for argument but that didn’t mean Grantaire wouldn’t try.

"No, I'm not."

"You are,” he paused, heavily considering his next words, “Listen, just go talk to him."

Grantaire’s eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Because… I just I really think you should. I'll sic Bahorel on you if I have to, so there’s no point in running."

Grantaire wanted to run anyway, just to be difficult. "Fine."

Enjolras was laughing when he walked into the room, looking more like himself than he had over the past few days. He frowned when he saw Grantaire had entered. "Where did they whisk you off to?"

"X ray." He lifted his foot. "Just a sprain."

"Thank goodness for that,” Enjolras said dryly, “You could have said something though. You've been my strength for the past few days and I was suddenly without." He smiled fondly, which was decidedly strange.

"Aw, Enjolras that's so sweet," Cossette cooed.

"It's the truth."

"Awww." Bahorel aggressively ruffled Grantaire's hair.

Grantaire was sure his face was on fire and was immensely grateful when Combeferre called everyone's attention by clapping. "Come along, les amis, we need to get out of here before they throw us out."

Everyone said their goodbyes and offered their hugs, pats or sloppy kisses in farewell. Grantaire tried to exit with them but Combeferre shoved him back into the room and shut the door in his face. Grantaire scowled after him.

"You're not going with them?" Enjolras asked from his bed.

"Ferre said I had to talk to you first."

"Good, I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

"Ah, well... Maybe a little." Grantaire approached the bed, eyes on the ceiling.

"Why is that?"

He shrugged, the silence heavy.

"Grantaire..." Enjolras started hesitantly, "I'm not very good with situations like this, so I'm just going to say what I'm thinking."

"Oh good, this should be painful." He was not looking forward to Enjolras ripping his heart in two.

"Hush. Despite how awful this whole thing was, I'm glad you were the one there with me through it."

"Okay..." At least he was going for the gentle let down, not that it would help much.

"I don't want to go back to the way things were before." There was determination in his eyes.

"And that means... what exactly?"

"That I want to be associated with you in a closer than usual manner for the foreseeable future. If that's alright with you, of course."

“Are you… asking me out?”

“Yes.”

"You- You're not still delirious, are you?"

"I'm not."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"I... Don't know what to say."

Enjolras huffed, "A yes or no would suffice."

"Right, yeah. Well then, I guess I would like that as well. So, uh yes." The words came out strangely, like he wasn’t quite in control of them.

"Then why did you say it like that statement caused to you physical pain?"

"Sorry, I've just liked you for so long this feels really surreal. I'm not entirely sure this is actually happening. It would make more sense that none of this week actually happened. Why would you want to go out with me?"

Enjolras was glaring at him now. "Because I like you, I like spending time with you and I'd like to spend more time with you. Besides, I should be asking you that after everything that's happened."

Grantaire laughed. "Shut up, Apollo, you're amazing and I couldn't possibly turn you down."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "I warn you, I'm a piece of work. I’m one of those insane people who thinks they can see ghosts and everything."

"Yeah, I think I know what I’m getting myself into. At this point there probably isn’t much you could do to scare me off."

The blond scoffed. "Well, I would kiss you but I'm too weak to move and my mouth tastes awful, so I’m not sure what to do from here…"

"I'll take that bullet." He leaned forward but Enjolras tilted his head at the last moment and he ended up kissing his cheek.

"A condition of our dating is that you can't take anymore bullets for me." Enjolras had managed enough energy to press a warm hand to his chest, loosely grasping the fabric so as not to let him pull away.

"No promises there." He leaned in again and kissed him chaste on the mouth, lifting a hand to brush the hair from his face. After a moment he leaned back a breath and pressed their foreheads together. "I'm really glad you're okay."

"I'm glad you're okay too." Enjolras was giving him a weary and crooked smile.

"I should probably go,” Grantaire sighed, “I’m sure everyone is anxiously waiting to hear what we've been talking about."

"Making bets on the outcome of this conversation no doubt."

"I'll be back as soon as I can." He still hadn’t pulled away.

"You know, it might be strange falling asleep without you there. I could ask a nurse to let you stay." The offer was made mostly in jest.

“Yeah you’re very cute but as soon as I leave the room you’ll be out like a light.”

“Still thought I’d offer.”

"Mmhm, let the nurses rest. I'll see you soon." He kissed him on the forehead then once more on the mouth before leaving.

He was still grinning like an idiot by the time he reached the rest of his friends who let out a mortifying cacophony of congratulatory cheers and an obnoxious wolf whistle. They didn't need to be told what happened, it was written all over his face.

* * *

It took another 4 days before the proper authorities could get down the road and out to the house. In the valley was found the mangled body of Montparnasse. The cause of death was determined to be exsanguination due to animal attack, though the consensus was out on what kind of animal had attacked him, he was torn near to shreads. His body was found only feet from the three bodies buried near the stream.

Excavation of the bodies found that the one closest to the surface was a 30-40-year-old female stuffed into a large black garbage bag. Her wounds were consistent with a fall down the stairs. A male of similar age was found directly below her with a gunshot wound to the back of the head. Below both of them, there was a 20 some year-old female unbagged and apparently tossed into the bottom, crushed by the other two bodies with no discernable cause of death. Genetic testing later found that these were the bodies of the Thenardier family and the bullet found in the skull of Monsieur Thenarider was consistent with the gun found feet from the body of Montparnasse.

Grantaire wasn’t exactly sure what to do with this information when it made its way to them. It seemingly confirmed what Enjolras said. Enjolras seemed to take it all in stride going full in on the ghost train. He and Jehan jabbered on about ghosts the entire car ride back home when he was finally released from the hospital six days after being admitted and with an a-okay psych evaluation.

Grantaire intervened on their conversation when he felt they were getting too far out there, incredibly being the one to keep them grounded. Enjolras refuted his points, as always but he did so from a position half slumped against Grantaire, in constant contact.

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a boo-tiful couple. In the epilogue that I will not be writing, Enjolras absolutely joins up with Jehan to become a paranormal investigator and drags everyone else into it.
> 
> The biggest twist in this story is that it doesn’t involve aliens. Most of my stories involve aliens. I desperately wanted to include aliens.
> 
> Also, maybe I have a strange sense of humor. The pesticide thing was because I wanted the symptoms (which are pretty inconsistent and not entirely accurate) but there’s also something about a ghost that can poison people that I find really funny. Also, the ghost of monsieur Thenardier was supposed to be out in the woods reliving the gunshot and shouting a lot but the idea of him sitting out there alone, screaming into the void made me laugh too much. (I should really go back and add that though because it would better set up the idea that wow there are some odd neighbors around, not sure we should ask them for help).
> 
> It got really sloppy there at the end, like it's actual garbage bc I need to move on but I still have the extra ending from chaper 4? I think. That is still to come.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The alternative ending to the chapter where Enjolras was attacked in the basement.

“Did you scratch yourself as you fell?” Grantaire asked as they walked out of the bathroom, Enjolras slipping his shirt back on.

“I don’t think I did it.”

“What do you mean? I was the only other one there. You had to have done it.”

“So what, you think I punched myself in the face and scratched my throat just for the fun of it?”

“No, I just think maybe something is a little off and you aren’t quite in control of your actions.”

“And I just happen to have a mark where I felt I was pushed.”

“Yes-“

“No. That is _not_ what happened?”

“Then what did happen? You can’t expect me to believe that a ghost hit you.”

“I swear. I fucking swear I didn’t do this. I don’t know what happened but I can promise it wasn’t me.”

"How can I believe that when you aren’t a reliable source? I’m tired of weird shit happening."

“So, I’m just crazy then?”

“Yes!” Grantaire snapped, regret flashing in his eyes even as he said it. “No. That’s not what-“

“Fine. Don’t believe me I don’t care, it doesn’t matter anyway.” He started to walk away.

“Enjolras, I’m not doing this to be a dick. I just don’t know what’s going on in your head and-“ he stopped when a sudden sound cut in. It sounded like knocking. Their heads both turned toward the front door. After a moment of stunned silence, they walked to the entryway and looked out the peep hole to see that no one was outside.

Enjolras felt anxiety chew at his gut and locked the door before they returned to the living room.

“For a second I thought someone might be here to get us out,” Grantaire laughed shakily. “Look, I’m really trying to be…. Understanding here. I just don’t think you’re a reliable narrator right now.”

“You’re probably right. But I just know I didn’t do this. I can see it so clearly.”

“I know. I’m just… going to start on dinner. You can help if you want.” The implication was more that he didn’t want him out of sight.

“Fine,” he said bitterly.

They took a few steps toward the kitchen before there was another knock. This one clearly not coming from the front of the house.

“Was that from the basement?” Grantaire asked, puzzled.

They paused for a moment, watching the door when another knock came, followed by three successive knocks.

"Think we should get that?" Grantaire asked in a strange voice.

"If you open that door I will fucking scream," Enjolras promised, his voice little more than a whisper, feeling pinned in place as Grantaire took a step forward, one hand on the doorknob. "Grantaire, don’t fucking do it."

Grantaire spared him a blank look before turning back to the door and flinging it open. He found only empty air. Enjolras took a step forward to look over his shoulder, down into the descent but there was truly nothing there, just a lingering malicious simmer to the air. His hair was standing on end, waiting for… something. But nothing came.

Grantaire hummed after a few stunned seconds and let the door fall shut. “Well, that was…” Little more than a breath after he trailed off, the door started violently rattling like someone was trying to get out for behind a locked door. Apparently without thinking, Grantaire again grabbed the doorknob and flung the door open. And again, they saw nothing but darkness. But something in gloom was different, it felt kinetic.

Moving in a daze, Enjolras grabbed the flashlight Grantaire had discarded and shown its light down the corridor. At the bottom of the stairs there was the loose form of someone… or something. Its appearance was shifting, frayed at the edges and flickering like fire. The moment the light touched it, it looked up at them and Enjolras felt the glare cut through him with enough malintent that he gasped.

And then it was running at them.

Grantaire made a strangled sound but seemed frozen. Enjolras grabbed the door and slammed it in the thing’s face. He felt a body being thrown at the other side as he held it shut with all his weight, the doorknob turning frantically. Grantaire then blinked into action, holding back the door. After a few nail-biting seconds where they both stood there, holding fast against the unknown, the struggle on the other side abated as they heard a series of sickening thumps.

Enjolras felt bile rise in this throat. Iit sounded like someone had just fallen down the stairs… or perhaps thrown themselves down. And then there was silence.

Enjolras turned to Grantaire and they stared at each other, deathly pale and unsure of what to do.

“I’m gonna get a chair to jam under the knob.” Grantaire said eventually.

Enjolras nodded, not letting up on the door, just in case as Grantaire returned and they propped the it shut. They stepped back and stared.

“That was…” Enjolras started, “You saw that too, right?”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Grantaire said quietly.

The blond let out a slightly hysterical laugh, “Then I’m not crazy?” He desperately needed the verbal confirmation.

“Not unless we both are.” Grantaire looked as though his mind was still desperately trying to understand what they had both just witnessed.

Enjolras more or less through himself at Grantaire, hugging hard enough to make him gasp. He was so relieved he almost wanted to cry, but instead settled for releasing unsteady peals of laughter into Grantaire’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” Enjolras released the shorter man with a sheepish smile. “This is pretty awful but I’m extremely glad it’s not all in my head.”

Grantaire looked even more unsteady than he had a moment before, but he smiled back all the same. “Honestly, me too.”

“Really? Now you have to deal with this nonsense.”

“I would rather be trapped in an actual haunted house full of malevolent spirits than have to watch you slowly lose your mind. It would just be fucking depressing.”

“I- Thanks,” Enjolras beamed at him.

Grantaire looked away, shuffling his feet. “Yeah, well, I guess we should deal with this ghost thing now.”

"Yes. I think we should fill the bathtub with water and cook what we can in case the generator goes off again. We can’t go back down there.” His eyes flitted to the stopped door. “So, I’ll start on the bathtub, you start on the food."

“Should we really be splitting up in here?”

“Maybe not but I’m worried we won’t have power for long.”

“Fine, but if the ghosts start picking on you, get the fuck out, yeah?”

“Agreed.” Grantaire’s worried gaze followed him out of the room, but the establishment that he wasn’t losing his mind had filled him with confidence. He started the bath water in the upstairs bathroom, his gaze wandering toward the girl’s room with newfound curiosity. He wondered if there really was something in that room, it certainly felt different than the basement did, but why would there be two ghosts in those two locations when the only known deaths had occurred in the living room?

 He squinted through the darkness out of some masochistic desire to see something there, but there was nothing. Just empty space that made his skin prickle with goosebumps. 

When he made his way downstairs Grantaire was cooking up a storm. He had frozen pizza in the oven as he was adding together the ingredients for a casserole to use up their remaining eggs. He moved with such singular focus that Enjolras thought it was better not to interrupt and instead went about lighting candles and then reading at the table until Grantaire handed him a plate of spaghetti.

"I'm sorry for not believing you," Grantaire said as they began to eat.

"It's okay, I didn't believe me either."

"So... Ghosts are real."

"Or we're caught in a folie a deux and are somehow imagining the same thing at the same time."

"Or I'm sitting in a room somewhere having imagined his whole misadventure as some sort of delusion, that seems more possible to me."

Enjolras shrugged. "I don't think I’m a fiction of your imagination, if it helps."

"It doesn't but thanks."

"How do you think it works?” Enjolras asked, “Being a ghost, I mean. What are the rules?"

"I have not a single clue."

“I mean, do all people become ghosts? Or just those who want to stay here or have a particularly violent death? Can ghosts see each other? Why isn’t there much evidence of ghosts if they really do exist? I have many questions."

"And I have zero answers for you. What about Jehan’s ghost. Do you think he really saw something now?"

"No, I still think he scared himself."

"I dunno, I think I'm more sympathetic now." he sighed, “We should try to get something on video so we have evidence. As it is now, people are just going to think I’ve been abusing you.”

Enjolras had completely forgotten what a wreck he must look, he still had blood down the front of his shirt. “That reminds me.” He lifted his shirt high enough to look at the imprint on his chest, which was still very visible.

“Two candle lit dinners and you’re already onto flashing me, you hussy.”

“Shut up, does it look any worse to you?”

“No, it looks like it’s calmed down a little. It’s shaped like a hand.” He reached out and placed his fingers on the slightly more raised areas that looked very much like the someone’s palm.

Enjolras winced.

“What does it feel like?” Grantaire withdrew his hand.

“It kind of burns and itches like I just rubbed nettles into my skin.”

“I wonder why it just went for you.”

“I don’t know-“ He halted when he heard the generator cut out. The house was suddenly silent.

“Wonderful,” Grantaire groaned.

“Let’s just hope that by tomorrow enough snow will have melted that we can get the car out,” he said, although it had stopped raining outside.

“Right.” Grantaire stood up, grabbing the wind-up radio off the counter and turning it onto a weather station to fill the void of silence, but when the forecast was for a day’s worth of light rain then more freezing weather, the station was swiftly changed to music.

* * *

After eating it was decided to go straight up to bed both because Enjolras was running on less than fumes and because they both felt uneasy staying on the ground floor.

They laid side by side in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

 "I think I understand why you couldn’t sleep now. It's a lot more difficult when you know there's something out there," Grantaire sighed.

"Can you feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"I don’t know. I feel stupid saying a presence but… Can you actually feel that there’s something there or is it just knowing that something is there that makes you nervous?"

"Just knowing. I don’t feel anything other than fear. Maybe you really are sensitive to ghosts."

"Maybe you just have a thick skull."

"Then I thank my parents for blessing me with this thick skull of mine."

Downstairs they could hear the door rattling again the chair stopping it. They both held their breath as the sound echoed through the house. When it finally stopped the room was dead quiet.

"Fuck, that's so disconcerting," Grantaire said.

"Human contact helps," Enjolras offered absently. He regretted saying anything the instant the words left his mouth.

Grantaire looked over at him in the darkness. "Are you… asking me to cuddle you? Is that what's happening right now?"

"I was just saying. Humans are tactile creatures and for whatever reason having another person close... It just helps."

"No no, I get it, Apollo, do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?"

"Okay, jackass, forget I said anything," he huffed, turning away toward the wall.

"Hang on! I’m sorry. Just ignore me, I'm an idiot." Grantaire tugged at the back of his shirt. "If it helps then..." he didn't seem to know how to continue. Enjolras’ face was burning in the darkness. He wasn't about to say anything.

"No, it was stupid..."

Grantaire gave a frustrated sigh and turned his face away.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence there came the sound of soft footsteps in the hall. Enjolras went stiff as they stopped in front of the door, his breathing shallow as he waited for something to happen. He jolted when he felt arms slide around his waist as Grantaire pulled him close.

"I'm really really sorry." Grantaire whispered into his ear. Enjolras wasn't quite sure what he was apologizing for, it felt like more than just a little teasing.

"For what?"

"Just for everything." he rested his head on the back of his neck.

“You can’t apologize for everything, you don’t have the authority,” he said more to distract himself.

Grantaire gave a huffed laugh, “Then I have the audacity to do so anyway: I’m sorry.”

Enjolras was somewhat perplexed by how sincere he sounded. “Then I forgive you for whatever you’re apologizing for and offer an apology of my own.”

“That’s kind of you.”

“Do you accept it?”

He hummed, “I’ll think about it, but I warn you, I’m very fickle.”

Enjolras finally allowed himself to lean into the embrace as he heard whatever it was in the hall shift about. “How dare you, I poured my heart and soul into that apology.”

“Well in that case I must accept.” Grantaire’s thumb was running back and forth over his upper arm in a distracting manner. “Now I really really think you should get some sleep.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And that’s all I dare ask for.”

They were both in and out of sleep that night, but they remained close throughout its extent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized e knowing he wasn’t crazy was like “fucking come at me ghosts” so it didn’t fit with where I wanted to go.
> 
> What a convoluted story. Here’s the actual outline I’m a terrible author and can’t be bothered to add all this in: Azelma wasn’t happy with her situation but was a diligent little crime accountant who kept track of Montparnasse’s dealings, which involved cutting her dad out of things and stealing from him. So she keeps careful track and aims to lay it all out for her dad when she has the solid proof to back it up because he wouldn’t believe he would dare be so bold about this sort of thing. Unfortunately, Montparnasse caught her spying, chased her through the house and strangled her to death in her own bed, the sheets of which had not been removed when Enjolras slept in them, immensely upsetting her ghost. So with her dead Montparnasse heard the front door open and the mom when into the basement to turn on the generator because it was storming and the power was out, in his paranoid mind she knew what he had done and so he had to take care of her. He grabbed a can of pesticide, locked the basement door at the top of the stairs and crept down, sprayed her in the face and when she attacked Enjolras she transferred chemicals directly into his skin because I was like what is the most spiteful thing she could possibly do. Anyway, she runs for it but the door is locked and in her panic she doesn’t register that it locks from in inside before Montparnasse runs up and yanks her down the steps where she breaks her neck. Freaking out and knowing that Thenardier is out in the valley counting his secret stash of cash, he grabs the gun that's always sitting out and shoots him in the back of the head, later making off with all his money. He goes back and carries out the bodies to the valley, digs a hole and kicks Azelma in without putting her in a tashbag because he only found two in the cabinet. He stuffs the other two in as best he can so the animals wont get them and then fucks off saying they ditched town like they always do. Additionally, before the Thenardiers moved in, Floreal the waitress had a bad home life and was trying to get out of it so she went to the church and met Mabeuf who said she could stay with him until she figured out where to go from there. Unfortunately, that very same night Montparnasse (as a teenager) got super fucked up and decided to rob his neighbor but got super jumpy and shot Floreal in the living room then got close enough to shoot Mabeuf and staged a murder suicided scene that the cops were like yeah seems legit. They didn’t become ghosts because Mabeuf assumed as soon as he died he would go to heaven and Floreal didn’t feel like she had anything to stick around for. The Thenardiers were just super pissed that they were killed and their anger kept them around. So, while Eponine was living in the house it was never actually haunted. 
> 
> And all this was because I wanted to write a little story to get the hang of E/R so that I could write a convoluted Harry Potter AU... Which I'm still gonna do... I'll be back...
> 
> Anyway, if you made it this far: Thank you for reading this mess, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Live long and prosper.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I couldn’t get E and R’s rhythm right for another thing I was trying to write and I still don’t think I have it. Oh well. I’m posting this anyway to make myself write the rest, I might change parts when I do everything else.
> 
> Also, Grantaire is sober here bc I didn’t want to deal with keeping track of when he was drinking. This story takes place on the border of Pennsylvania and Ohio because I'm aggressively midwestern, not that I’ve spent much time in that particular area so it’s a lot of made up garbage. Ignore any weird logical errors, a lot of stuff will probs be vague on the details. Like how old are they?? No idea. I just wanted to try to get their flow but then things got a little out of hand.
> 
> My tumblr is opens-up-4-nobody if you wanna say hi  
> Thanks 


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